American Way

Hi, I'm officially the most boring person left on earth. My big weekend? Buying tires, so I don't end in a fiery death later on this week.

Oh, and I got some new curtains for my bedroom. Look at that. Not only am I boring, but I'm gay and boring. How is that even possible?

The curtains are hideous, by the way. They are a sort of maroon-purple with green accents and clash in just the right amount with my comforter to make me seem both a) completely colorblind and b) incredibly tacky. And while I may be b), I'm most certainly not a). They were just so cheap, and those lights outside my bedroom window were so bright, my good sense and taste got away from me. At least it's nice and dark in my room at night now.

Oh, and speaking of tacky, I picked up some incredibly cheap artwork for my living room, so there will at least be something on the walls. They're little recreations of Van Gogh paintings, only done in 3-D diorama style and then framed. With glitter and sequins applied liberally. They may indeed be the tackiest thing in my apartment. And I have a glow-in-the-dark, color-swirling backgrounded, picture of the Virgin Mary hanging over my bookcase.

I love my apartment.

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In less stunning news, I continue to play a lot of video games. I am so incredibly close getting my very own cute little wolf to ride around on in World of Warcraft. I know it sounds remarkably shallow and juvenile, but I really want that wolf. It seems like I should have more real-life goals, like a better job, and/or a boyfriend and whatnot, but no, I want that wolf.

In service to me not becoming completely game-obsessed (or, y'know, moreso) last week I reinstated my exercise regimen that I have to complete before I get to play. This just in: Exercise is hard, yo. I'm just talking a little cardio, maybe 20 minutes or so, and it completely wipes me. I'm left panting on the floor, tongue lolling out, vainly reaching towards the kitchen for a glass of water. Someday I will prevail against poor endurance though, and it will be awesome.

Plus, it's been incredibly nice outside for the past couple of days, so I've also been requiring at least a half hour of outside time per day. Which is somewhat wasted on weekdays, since I don't get off work until sunset, but I'm gonna try to keep it up. I've reached something of a backlog in books that I need to catch up on, so I'm trying to knock through a few of them while getting some fresh air. Sunlight is awesome, even though it makes me sneeze and blink alot. I'll beat that computer science gene yet.

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Blah blah, I have nothing to say, no stories to tell, but I don't feel like doing anything else. My parents were in town this weekend. It was nice and relaxing, just swapping stories and pretending to be an adult. I think my parents were a little scandalized by my Virgin Mary picture. And my menora, that I got on sale at Linens and Things which is just a little too awesome for words. I've become all seemingly multi-faithed on them and it creeps them out. They did help me out on those new tires though, which is right cool of them. I think we have a much better relationship nowadays. Everything is well-repressed, and they totally call me back when I try to reach them. Which is much better than the state of things in college, everyone can attest to that.

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I found out that my brakes are shot too, according to the tire place. Which means that next weekend will be even more fun as we slowly go through the process of replacing every essential part of the Truck of Malfunction, bit by bit. This week: the armrest in between the driver and passenger seats fell off. I sort of reattached it, but it requires a torque wrench to attach properly, and damned if I'm not a bit too gay to own a torque wrench. But not too gay to know what one is. It's a very fine line that I walk.

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All right, all right, you win, I'll stop rambling. You're lucky I'm in a good mood. Stupid Valentine's Day. I'm gonna go buy me a big thing of chocolate and watch a lot of TV. That'll show all y'all. Patricia Arquette is the only one who understands me. And who can see into the future. Or the past. Present. You know what I mean.