Well, drunken debauchery is an excellent way to avoid the parents. My mom took it very well when I stumbled in the door at 11:30 in the morning…not wearing my clothes. Granted I had only borrowed a t-shirt to wear while sleeping on the couch but you know. It certainly didn’t look good. Not even a word, though. I was definitely impressed. Ah! I spelled “definitely” correctly the first try. For anyone reading this who cares a big ha-ha to you! Ah yes, if only my life were half as exciting as I made it out to be. Don’t let anyone know it’s not if you wouldn’t mind, would ruin the reputation.

So I think now is a good time to restate the aforementioned tragedy of moving back home: I’m never getting laid.

I have been surprisingly productive; I’ve applied to several jobs. I even sent a resume over night for a job that a friend was kind enough to apprise me of. My hopes are certainly not high, but at least I’m trying. Now I can say I’m a bum with great intentions. So I had some fantastic thoughts and they all went away. I guess I will have to share them some other night. Dammit, Dave just came on (Dave Matthews for those of you who don’t get the shorthand). I used to hate Dave but I’ve found a little appreciation for him. Many of his lyrics are quite spectacular. I hate all the radio songs, though, go figure. The problem with Dave playing, though (which was where I was going with this thought) was that it does not help calm the sexual drive. For any gentleman reading this let it be known Dave Matthews Band might help you get some booty you don’t deserve. Remember that.

Alright, I’m done rambling. Yeah right.