I've rediscovered the fun of breakaway pants. They're truly the best thing to wear around the house when wearing pajamas makes you feel like too much of a useless bum.
As of today, I'm opening up the search for where I'm going to live next year and with whom (if anyone). It occurred to me that I should start doing this soon, as I was waiting for the Q10 bus at 4am Sunday. Being drunk just isn't as fun when an hour and a half separate last carbomb from merciful pillow.
Things are pretty pleasant right now. The whole GMAT thing is over, and senioritis is really starting to take root. Plus I'm saving $12 a month in haircuts by just avoiding the whole dreaded process altogether. The part I tend to dislike the most is pretending to make small talk with Gabe. He cuts a good hair or two, but once you get past weather (too hot/really nice/cold man, cold) and work (how's work? I don't work. You in school? Yeah, it's OK.), there's not much to go on. The guy doesn't even watch sports or care about politics, things with which the biggest bore could fill a half hour of the awkwardness of one man touching another's head.
My Christmas list:
David Wright authentic home jersey
Seinfeld seasons 8 and 9
Membership to the New York Road Runners' Club
This was the first year of the last three that I haven't included satellite radio. This is due totally to the rapidly approaching December 3rd return of J. Donald Imus to the airwaves. I had always taken the I-man for granted, but his seven month nappygate exodus will have me glued to every Hillary Clinton, Dick Cheney, Britney Spears = Satan comment, overexaggerated Tassimo commercial, and dying wheeze that I've been woefully deprived of since April 12th.
I wonder just what the hell people do in Omaha all day anyway. Or if they have streets like we do.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
