Tonight, I literally ate bacon in bed.
I tried to watch Skins, but began to feel that watching prepubescent british blokes wanking off wasn't how baby Jesus wanted me to spend my evening. Not really, I just finished all of Weeds and everything pales in comparison. Those people are stage actors, yo!
I'm beginning to feel this weird longing for a sense of direction coupled with a general complacency for where I am. The thought of graduating college soon is scaring me shit-less and the prospect of starting grown-up-wear -sweater-vests and swirl-your-wine college is also freaking me out.
I just want to know when I should get my career as professional food critic, super model, and kitten snuggler under way? Do I really need several degrees to accomplish these tasks?
Speaking of accomplishing tasks...I can't decide if I am putting forth as much effort as I think to meet a dude or if I am just lazy and complainish when it all doesn't fall into my lap. Perhaps I have secretly resigned to this place not EVER having what I want. If only I was looking for misogynist red-necks; there's a whole house of them next door that bark at me on my way in!
Maybe one day I'll join in on the drunken volleyball matches and we'll all bump chests and sing along to the Baha Men. That would just be brolific!
photo: beach volleyball database
