pb

update:

status: hung over, bearded, sporting a bitchin' calloused thumb from playing assloads of Halo, ten pounds lighter, nose sore but serviceable

disposition: lamenting end of two weeks leave from work, kinda bored, vaguely turned-on for reasons as yet undiscerned, concerned about maybe revealing too much of the real pb during late night drunken conversations over the last several days

intentions: walk to cafe for potato galette and tomato soup, keep weight off, lament shaving of beard, call cute girl who practially shoved her number into my hand yesterday, become hot, continue short story, see shaun of the dead again, get sweet lovin'

attire: pajama pants (maybe that's why i'm vaguely turned on, pajama pants wearing me is teh sexxay)

drink: chocolate soy milk

bank account: on E

music: type o negative, duh

book: fevre dream (no i did not flub the spelling, but i will flub you if you're cute and female)


---------------

ah, my lovlies, i must thank each and every one of you profusely for your myriad comments over the last few days. in truth, i was feeling a little weirded out by only garnering 4 comments on my last journal, which was up for roughly the same amount of time. note to self: write more five paragraph treatises describing mundane goings on in this, this thing called my life.

i also should specifically thank _Julie_ for BeingFuckingRad, cheech for being cool to actually hang out with in RL and discuss music and bourbon with, maurauder for just being maurauder, and Caddy for being a very hot, articulate and generous commenter (!) to mah inane and rather inept scribblings to her. i promise, dear, i'm working on muzetta's waltz as we speak.

in other news, a few friends of mine and i have been playing the HELL out of Halo these last few afternoons, evenings, nights, and early mornings. we're talking starting about 530p and playing 'till around 230a three nights straight. the three of us take turns blasting funny, colorful aliens and alien zombies with pulse rifles, exploding needle launchers, plas- cannons and some rad vehicle that looks like a cross between a dune buggy and a light armored personnel carrier. its cool to just sit around being guys for a change. the Papa John's pizza guy knows us by name, we've gone through several bottles of red wine, lots of painkillers, Tool: Lateralus cd several times, other assorted punk and bluegrass music, etc etc. whilst fragging aliens and driving over them with whatever vehicle we have on hand. maybe this weekend we'll actually get out of the house and go try to get laid, but for now its all about the XBox baby!

next week, sadly, i have to go back to work. i'm sure i'll remember this week fondly when i'm blearily driving to work at 7am with a full day of bureaucratic bullshit ahead of me.

and, in keeping with the whole being a guy thing this week, i've grown a beard, albeit a short one.

i certainly wish i had more profound things to say, my dears, but life sometimes just isn't all that exciting. you have to try and make do with your alcohol, your Tool, your video games, your online friends and your facial hair to make it at least a little fun and worthy of a small note on some virtual diary. i certainly wish i could make each and every one of my journal entries a joy of 50 cent word prose too, but sometimes its just not in me to do so, despite my delusions of granduer.

have no fear, however. i'll most likely this weekend find myself blindingly drunk and brooding and suddenly able to, once again, pen something morose, self absorbed and strikingly cliche.






-pb



music: radio rivendell
book: the further chronicles of conan, robert jordan