Every conversation I have with Mark from Sporting Goods now consists of nothing but Napoleon Dynamite references. It's great. My favorite from tonight:

"Hey what happened to the Kmart poster with the guy rockin' the tats. I bet he had some serious bowfighting skills."

I think I'm again suffering from what I like to call "the prison effect" which occurs when a complete lack of lust-worthy women makes me consider my chances with men. It's more of a temporary thing. It comes and goes. And I certainly haven't lowered my standards when it comes to the ladies, so I can't be that far gone and desperate, can I? No, I think I'm good.

Besides, I'm headlong into a sixteen week love affair with the computer, a shitload of books and my coffee pot. I don't have time for an actual person.

I made a plasma appointment for tomorrow morning so I would have money for Madison this weekend, but I don't think I'm going to bother to go. Interestingly enough, the paper that I'm working on for my writing class is about overspending and not living within one's means. Whatever.

Why am I still awake?

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