Drip Master Is Mother's Job

"The wild-at-heart should never be kept in cages."

-Me

Been sitting here thinking if this is what we call 'life.' It's a mildly cool night where I found myself walking 5 Pound Phooey on the usual route around the lake. After another long performance at work, time in the gym, and the walk, I feel as if I've got the effects of aging upon me. I'm young but even I cannot go without laying in bed to stare out into a starry sky's impossible effects. 'I'm so, so tired' is what I keep saying over and over again.

So, this weekend? Sara and I spent a bit of time looking over used/new furniture in an old school. It's getting close to that time where I just might have to fold my Calvins and socks into a drawer while Sara's will be in the other drawers. Scary. I'm going to be shopping for a whole new collection of fabrics that grip my balls since there is annoyance in constantly bringing my clothes back and forth. Will all this find its way into Sara's dirty laundry basket so I come back to underwear and socks folded her way? I tend to do it the department store's method where the buttons on the button-fly are on top.

We've destroyed the old mattress so we're looking for one of those, too. Nothing to see here.

Do you place your kid in the microwave? One guy did and the little girl ended up extremely burned. Hope this guy ends up hacked to pieces. Oops! I didn't know you needed your fingernails!

You know what's funny? I think I give you this picture that sex is pretty much all Sara and I do. Totally not true. We're too tired from the day's/night's activities to even think that. Well, at least I am. Parties, catching up with friends, seeing the parents and coming back bloated from too much food eaten to please them, cat allergies for me, errands to fill prescriptions, local sports teams in the news, the Pony League World Series, custard from the ice cream stand, a visit to the local Wolf Park, more errands, and so many other things. By the time bedtime comes around, I'm nearly out. I don't think Sara and I have ever had a quiet weekend.

It's been discovered in research that the best orgasms take place between 1 and 5pm. Too bad we're generally at work, huh? If it's the weekend at home, I'm napping with a very hairy little dog next to me. If I'm in Indy, I'm probably out having lunch thanks to bedtime being around 2 or 3am. Wish the best orgasms happened during a more available time period like..........right before work. Who doesn't like going out the door after being given a good blowjob or licking!

Yes, I'm still mad about Sara's roommate going through my stuff. It's not the first time she's taken something out to watch when we've been gone. I've always tried to figure out the issues I see with this girl that thinks things should be hers when they clearly are not for her. Period. The kitchen is a complete disaster thanks to plastic bags being left on the floor, opened food canisters, crumbs, coffee grounds, spilled liquids over the oven, and so on. Sara doesn't cook because of all this, the roommate taking over this place as just hers. It pisses me off to see an artist having to defend this apartment area's white-trash look.

Would you believe it snowed on Sunday? Not enough to see piles of it all around but it did snow.

I suck at Scrabble. Sara and her mother destroy me all the time. Yes, this is what we did on Sunday evening before dinner. You find yourself involved with family traditions at some point.

We'll be in Atlanta on my birthday so far. Still trying to figure out if I want to dress up as a superhero or show off some form of inner-geek while attending he latest convention of nerds/dorks/dweebs/losers/lardasses/and whathaveyou. All arms attending these things are the size of a broom handle unless he spends all his time with pizza and World Of Warcraft on the computer. Superman does not have such an appearance. How dare someone that thin or fat try to imitate the Man Of Steel.

So, I am outta here as I try to make sense of why I'm so bloody tired. Couldn't even muster a finger to change the channel when Keeping Up With the Kardashians aired. Oh, the horror for young girls to have the teachings of their mother on periods. Apparently, the fact that pads are going to be the starting point to contain their drips will be known to us all! At least we learned that the gay guys can dress those that seem to be without hope. Happy twats all around.