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Howdy, ya'll!

I'm having those pregnant woman cravings again. I know I posted about them before. (Maybe my new blogstalker could look that up for me? That would be super.) The other day, I would have killed a squirrel for cotton candy. Well, maybe not a squirrel. They're cute. How about... a gecko or something. Actually, why don't we not kill anything. (Wow. Tangent.) Anywho, now I want those mustard pickles. Those of you on the mainland have probably not had them. Basically, it's pickles, in a jar, with mustard. It sounds gross (and looks even worse) but omy, it's fantastic.

Well, this is turning out to be a riveting blog. What else can I write about? Hm.

I feel ridiculous about this boy situation. This guy I like now is just a dick. Plain and simple. The problem is, however, I have fallen for the guy I spent time with in person. Online, he's just cold and strange. I think I'm obsessing over him simply because I have no one else to obsess over, if that makes sense. There's just something wrong with the men in this city. I dated non-stop when I was in Toronto, and a lot of them were great, great guys. Double great. Here, it seems like the genetic cesspool is too small to get past a handful of personalities in hundreds of gay men. It's perplexing to say the least. Anyway, I haven't talked to jerk in a couple days, so I assume things have halted. Probably for the best, but still boring for the overall lifeness of it all.

Ha ha, "the overall lifeness of it all"? Wow. I think I need cotton candy to wake me up.

My roommate is getting weirder. I was in the dining room/kitchen with Lilly eating pasta yesterday and he just came in and started slowly scrubbing this pan while looking off into the distance. He's probably planning how he's going to manage to murder me in my sleep and get away with it. Don't worry, psycho roommate. I don't have too many obligations so no one should notice I'm missing too quickly. Maybe you can just use that pan that you're scrubbing a hole into the bottom of and that would just be dandy.

I'm taking two writing courses next semester. Advanced poetry and writing with pictures. What kind of pictures I'll be making, I have no idea. Maybe I'll pretend I know what I'm doing and use pastels or something. Yes. That should suffice.

How is there an advanced poetry? Shouldn't it just be called second poetry or something? Nope, this poetry is ADVANCED. *cue dramatic piano*

This blog is going nowhere far too fast. So I'm going to go. Right now.

--Jam

Song of the week: Untouched by The Veronicas. Here.