you remind me of baseball
SICK!!!!!!
This weekend I was party central (and I use that term shamelessly). I had to make up for the past weekends I'd spend by myself in my underwear with a couple of brewskies, watching Cops and televised hockey games. I felt like an asshole. A relaxed asshole, but an asshole nonetheless. So I've taken action and decided upon the unthinkable:
I'm going to go to the friggin' gym!
Truth. There once was a time when I did go to the gym; believe it. It was around the time I was experimenting with how brightly colored beads would look on the shoelaces of my Vans. That lasted about 72 hours and I bench-pressed 50 pounds. Hopefully this time I can raise that unbelievable record to 55 lbs. (The colored glow-in-the-dark beads phase lasted for longer than 72 hours. I still have those fuckers in my closet.)
Tonight, while we were watching Curb Your Enthusiasm, my Dad started making jokes about our drug dealing dog. There was something about the image of furry ol' farty Benjamin sellin' treats up at the high school to kids that still has me chuckling. If you knew my sketchy dog, you'd chuckle, too.
Since I've last updated things have happened. Things like finally deciding to take my beginner's license test, and failing both times.
I hosted a fashion show and made jokes in between and people actually laughed hard and parents of old neighborhood friends who were there called me later that night to tell me how sweet I was. I think they're mostly just shocked because they only remember me as a smelly goth kid from the ninth grade.
I've decided to lay off school for awhile and just focus on being a loudmouth kid instead, so I didn't put applications into anything I've been interested in. I just don't want to end up at a soul-sucking call center. Maybe just soul-sucking Burger King instead.