A Little Bit of This...

Chapter ONE

Today the living and thinking sky decided to rain hardest while I commuted home. By the time I got to my room I was soaking wet due to the fact that in the land of on-street parking, parking two blocks away is as common as insert similie here. I decided to banish the rest of the dryness from my clothes by going to the corner store because dammit, I wanted a Hot Pocket. This means that I will spend the rest of the night in my shorts (the other kind), giving my roommates a view that is normally only reserved for midway through my 11:50 getting-ready-for-bed routine. That roughly translates to an old-timey boudoir photograph for you:

Laguna Beach was on the television when I turned it on, so I guess I'll add that into the boxer-shorts mix. Oh, my roommate and his girlfriend just walked in, and yet I still shorts it. Well...maybe I'll put on a hawaiian shirt for decency.

But I will never put on pants.

Chapter TWO

I'm 20 and I'm still called boyish by some. I can see where they're coming from.

For example, while my labmates dine on reheated dinners and asian food for lunch, I brown-bag it. What's in the brown bag?

1. One (1) peanut butter and jelly sandwich
2. One (1) Kool-Aid Jammer Pack
3. One (1) Hi-C Fruit Snack Pack
4. One (1) Star Crunch

I like to much on these items while I read the daily comics ("Hello, professor!").

I have a childlike attraction to kittens. I like them so much that my voice rises one and a half octaves when they're presented to me. Everyone else in the room disappears to me while I muse things to the creature. Things such as, "Hello puff!" Sometimes I like to two-fist kittens in my hands and rub them on the side of my face. It's just a thing I do. My little brother (of year 3) does similar things. I don't squeal when I see them, though--never have, never will.

One of my favorite games at the moment is a game called Flicky that I got when I bought a small Sega Genesis 6-in-one system from Target. Flicky is an 18-bit game starring you, Flicky, a small blue bird who wants to save his little chirpies from cats collectively named Tiger and lizards named Iggy.

I want to be a Moonbase Commander when I grow up.

I could say more, but I won't.

Oddly, I've also been compared to having father-like mannerisms. Not in the over-protective sense, but in the vocabulary and joke-telling sense. For example, using words such as "dadgum" and excusing myself whenever something near me makes a sound that resembles a fart.

Behold, I am human dichotomy.

Interlude

Chapter THREE

Currently occuring to the right of shirtless and pantless me:

Chris: "What is a 'fallopian tube'? *pssh* People don't have those..."

Catherine: "Salpingo Oof Oof-erectomy."

Epilogue

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some Harry Potter to read.