My eyes wet easier than they used to. It’s good.

I watched Amelie again today. It has the desired emotional effect on me. I love her character. And I felt my eyes get wet during that scene where she’s thinking about him, thinking he’d run his hands across the beads – but it turns out to be just the cat. I could go for a nice emotional movie, but I don’t really know of any. Plight of being male, I suppose.

There’s an ominous fog outside. I love how it looks, but no way I want to walk out into it. That kind of moisture would make my hair look horrible. Yes, I care about my appearance. Fellate me.

It’s another Friday evening. Regardless of everything, I try to relax on Friday evenings. And I am. Pity my sex drive is dead. Oh well. I could watch another movie (divX) tonight, but I don’t know of anything at the moment I want to watch? I’ve heard great things about Lost in Translation. I think I downloaded it before, but it refused to play. I think there’s a two-part version on DC. *looks* Screener. Funny the things that end up on DC. I could try downloading again. *shrugs*

(DC = Direct Connect. I use DC++. The Optimus Prime hub is one of the few great things about Rutgers.)

My entries have felt rather repetitive lately. Oh well. So this is what it’s like to feel average and whiny.

Among the food rations I brought the dorm at the beginning of the semester was these Quaker Fruit and Oatmeal breakfast bar type things. I remember snacking on them past midnight, when I was home for winter break. I finally finished some of the other junk food I have around here, and started eating some of those tasty breakfast bars. Um. I downed a box of 8 the other day. ..Whoops. *laughs* I’m such a binge eater. Except I don’t purge. I binge and fast? *laughs* So horrible for me. Well, I didn’t eat all 8 (in a box, there are four boxes) at once. It was over time? THEY TASTE GOOD IN MY MOUTH. Because, you know, food just doesn’t taste as good when you put it in any other part of your body.

The dining hall had Beef Pot Pie today. It looks like a pile of crap when I put it on the plate, but I don’t care. It tastes REALLY GOOD. Better than a lot of the stuff they serve. Personally, I think their Turkey Pot Pie is better, but I won’t argue. It just annoys me that they always have a pot pie when they have Mexican Cantina. *grumbles* So I just had both. *nods solemnly* I’m still pretending I can eat anything. *looks down* Does this t-shirt make me look fat?

(That was only funny to me, because I’m wearing my monkey shirt. Actually, it’s not a monkey, it’s an orangatang. It’s just easier to say MONKEY, because everybody knows what a monkey is. Besides, typing orangatang is harder than typing MONKEY. Am I even spelling orangatang right? It doesn’t look right. Oh well. At least I’m spelling MONKEY right. Monkey is such a sexually suggestive word. THERE’S A MONKEY ON MY SHIRT! Yes, indeed, it is. Can I show you my monkey? Please don’t spank the monkey. Be gentle with the monkey, or it will flaccidate in fear. If flaccidate isn’t a word, it is now. Ah, the power of english. I COMMAND A COMMUNICATION MEDIUM.)

(Oh. And it’s also funny because most people think I’m skinny as hell.)

I wonder how much electrolysis costs. There is no way I’ll need armpit hair ever again. Or ballhairs. I’d like smooth balls, without the hassle of shaving. *feels his face* God damn it, didn’t I just shave a week or two again? Still amuses me how shaving my balls is so much easier (to me) than shaving my face.

Whatever.

I’m getting sick of talking about myself. Not just here. You know when you talk to people on IM, and you “share” things about yourself? I’ve recounted myself so many times that it’s just a hassle to explain myself AGAIN. I just don’t care. I definitely could go for some quality time with Cliff and company. Sprite Remix tastes like Danny’s room. There’s that taste/sensory associative memory of mine, again.

Skittles in a can. I’ll bet you didn’t even notice how I photoshopped it.

To be among those who I don’t need to explain myself to. Or even talk about serious things with. And when I do, I don’t feel pressured. That’d be nice.

I’ve tried most of the things on the Chi-Chi’s menu, but I’m not there yet. I won’t eat their seafood, so they don’t count. But most other things, I have tried. (I just said that.) I could go for a chimichanga at El Coyote. Mmmm. I could live off Mexican.

You know, I really didn’t intend to write anything beyond that first paragraph up there. Whoops. *twirls finger* So much for short and concise; I end up with long, babbly, and random. By the way, who here ever learned the proper usage of the semicolon? I never learned it in High School. Or college. I’ve just learned from example, and from what other diariests have told me?

I love breasts. I’m quite lonely right now, but I suppose all I need right now is a movie. Like everybody else, I suppose I, too, must succumb to escapism.