A tribute to tacos:

Tacos are neat and so full of meat
Cheesy as hell, they come in a shell
Dripping with cream they make you scream
All cheesy and gooey they make you go pooey
I love tacos

Guess what I had for dinner?

Awesome stuff makes me happy. I find that it encompasses a few things things:

1) Stuff I already like
2) Stuff I don't know I like yet, but I will when I find out how awesome it is
3) Boobs (yes they deserve their own category)

I don't understand why people look at me funny when I talk about sex. I like sex. I like having sex. I like pretending to have sex. I like talking about sex. I'm a 25 year old male. I'm not going to apologize for wanting to get my dick wet from time to time. Does that make me a pig? I don't know and I don't particularly care. Is sex my reason for existence? Is it the be all and end all of who I am and what I want to accomplish? No. It's fun. I'm not going to go around pretending I'm a chaste, respectable, intellectual type when I'm not.

I'm a shy, geeky, goofy, chubby, smart mouthed motherfucker who likes to drink and get laid. I'm not going to be held responsible because you had a different idea of who I am.

Yay for mini rants!

I'm not good at a lot of stuff. I'm not good at discussing shoes. I'm not good at being a ninja. But I have one very useful talent. I am amazing at getting yelled at. I've been yelled at by family members, complete strangers, friends, ex-girlfriends, women I've dated, customers, people on the phone, an ex lawyer, this one asshat in the army, tons of people. I can't even say all of it was undeserved.

This also ties into another thing I'm good at. Silently cursing someone out in my head while maintaining a neutral or contrite expression.

Trust me everyone. I'm a professional.

Oh and blond HMV girl got the "phone call". Apparently it's respectable that, when I don't want to keep dating a girl, I call her and tell her I don't want to see her anymore. She said she kinda saw it coming. Then she cried a lot and cursed me out. Rumor has it most guys just stop calling for no reason. I can't say that thought doesn't appeal to me. Crying women are NOT my speciality. Well I usually do okay. Unless it's my fault. At which point I die a little inside, rethink every word I've said in the past 24 hours and try to find a way to make it better. Erm... doesn't always happen.

You'd think with all the awkward phone calls I've had to make in the last 6 months that I'd be a soft touch at this by now.

Nope.

Anyways.

I'm slightly worried that I'm going to freak out this weekend. With all the excitement of getting 90% of all my going to university shit figured out I almost forgot that I'm going to have roommates starting on Saturday and possibly but maybe not ending 8 months from now.

I have this bad habit I'm trying to fix, where I run the fuck away when things get weird or awkward.

It's just going to be an interesting transition. I have been here for more than 2 months effectively by myself. I did have Jon, but he spent all his time being not in the house.

Of course in about 2 1/2 weeks I'll have another interesting transition that I'm also freaking out about. A little. When I start first year-university as a mature student.

I imagine I'm going to spend a lot of effort trying not to be a quivering ball of restless nervousness.

Which is fine, as at the moment, I'm putting a lot of (mostly) wasted effort into developing mutant powers. Or super powers. Or magic powers. Powers of any kind really.

I'm having a weird week.

That's me./ I'll be everyone's friend when I can make tacos... with my mind.

"But I move too slow and I think too fast
And the first rainbow I see will be the last."