Music:Make a Joyful Noise: The Wonderful Sound of Hip Injuries
Hello! My name is THUMPER
I had another weird dream last night. At least, I think I did. I was in some sort of training session with a lot of people, and the presenter was holding up a felt-tip pen and one of those "Hello! My name is ______" nametags. I woke up just as she was saying "now when the bunny rabbits come in, they're all going to need one of these." Unfortunately, I can't remember any of the rest of the dream.
Ah, anyway, recap of the last couple of days? Tuesday night Ribs and I hung out. We played Monkey Island games and discussed Bruce Dickinson's solo career while listening to the new Iced Earth album. We also watched the most recent Retarded Animal Babies cartoon some things that I'm ashamed to have laughed at. To round out my evening, I went home and played a few games of Pigs On Head.
Last night Ellen and I got together, watched VH1 and ate rice ("rice" being a euphamism for... rice). That was fun. 'Nuff said.
Tonight I'm getting together with my dad for dinner, but beforehand (and very likely afterhandward as well) I'm hoping to get some reorganizing done in my room. See, on Monday after my dental appointment (which went fine, thanks), I stopped at mom and dad's house to bring home some of the crap they've been storing for me. Since Monday, three enormous plastic containers have been threatening to break my ankle as I stumble over them in the dark, and I need to find a better place to put them. Where? Why, my closet of course. This presents a problem which I will illustrate for you via the bare-bones tools available to me at work:
You'll have to excuse my poor German -- Babelfish couldn't even translate those words into English... Anyway, the closet is like that spare bedroom at your parents' house where they throw everything they don't want to deal with. It's a mess. Still, I'd like to get it emptied out, organized, and replaced, along with all the clutter taken care of, and I'm going to try to get it done within the span of a single evening.
Some people might laugh at my ambitions. Others might call me foolhardy, or, more likely, a dumbass.
Most, however, stopped reading somewhere around the mention of Pigs On Head.