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December eleventh. Just hopped out of the shower. Wearing shorts and a fedora. The act of going underwearless, or "commando" as some would call it, in one's own home is highly underrated.
I've been listening to Raygun tonight. I forgot how rockin' that EP really is. It put me in a mood to do stretches for my legs and sit-ups for my tummy/stomach/gut/crapfactory.
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Mother, your son, he's a bad boy. -Matthew Good (Little Terror)
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I think I did fairly well on my World Issues test today. As well as I could have done, writing about DIRT from memory. There are people starving to death and being tortured and exploded all over this not-exactly-spherical world of ours and we've spent the last few weeks talking about soil types and erosion.
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I am the fucking king of the run-on sentence and things and stuff and more, quasi-related things. And then more stuff.
I am also the animal motif guy.
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I'm putting my essay off for another night because I'm not too bright like that.
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