Things written while I'm waiting for the monster under my bed to leave
In other less jumbled, but slightly more rambling news
--I have noticed that on the days I don't work, I avoid anything that has to do with sports at all costs, except for football on Sundays. On the other days I am off, it is the last thing I want to think about. It probably has to do with being surrounded by sports for hours on end with nothing to interrupt it. It's almost irritating when my brother or dad decide to talk about the Pacers or baseball or whatever because I just don't want to think about it. I'm fine with going to a game, but I don't want to talk about it in my off time. I am glad I am this way because I don't want to be shallow.
--Craig's List is one of those things I could read for hours. Where else can you find job offers, appartment deals, people saying how much they hate Indiana and others saying how much they want someone else to die in a public forum?
--From the end scene of Ron Burgundy
"Brick, will you be holding your celebrity golf outing again this year?"
"No. Too many people died last year."
--Is it really too much for someone to keep some cookies in this house? It's after 3 a.m. There have to be cookies somewhere. When I was little, my parents didn't let me eat sugar. This meant no cookies. No cake. No ice cream. No soft drinks (or pop or soda or Coke or whatever you want to call it). No cupcakes. No candy bars. No pie. No cereal with candy. No candy, in general. No chocolate-covered peanuts. No whatever else you can think of. Maybe this explains a lot of things.
--Thank God that the Cubs' death march finally ends tomorrow.