Purging my soul of sin before ashes!

Blog, you are an instigator of procrastination. But if Sunday nights are not for procrastination, what are they for? Mass? What? Haven't been in weeks? Shhh.

Hey! I went to the casino this weekend! That's right. High roller playin' Blackjack. I now know how to play one card game, and won money in the learning process. Then I went to the slot machines and decided that pulling that lever is just as fun as I always imagined, but more expensive. It is likely that throwing money from my pocket onto the carpet at Mystic where cheap beer and cigarette must mask the tackiness of the pattern, would have been a slower way to lose cash money*.

I also went to a Timberwolves game on Friday night. Swanky, delicious raviolis were consumed beforehand, shortly followed by the realization that basketball players are a lot bigger when they're only a few feet away. And not feet from the TV to the couch. Although we didn't make it on the KissCam, apparently sitting behind the only Pacers fan in the stadium gets you some screen time in Indiana. It took the first half of the first quarter for Drunk Pacer Dude Fan to convince us to cease our Timberwolves "support" and put ourselves behind the Pacers. Which obviously worked when they won.

Abrupt ending! Homework time! It's like Tool Time but with less Tim Allen and more Google searches of Johnathan Taylor Thomas!

*Totally enamored with Lil' Wayne right now. Google that man and learn about his cough-syrup consumption, the time he shot himself at age 9, and his prolific rap career. Lil' Wayne says "cash money", so I say "cash money". It's a street cred thing. You might not understand.

Working hard to avoid unnecessary abbreviations.

Hiya.
Realizations for 17 February 2009:

• Today is not Monday.
  
• Why are things with fewer things more expensive? Fluoride-free toothpaste, for example. Who am I paying to remove things from my things?
• The level of aloofness in my apartment may have allowed for a boy to move in. That is the only excuse for the level of disgusting the kitchen has risen to.
  
• Birthdays go on as long as the streamers are kept up.
  
• Stone Butch Blues: too sad to read before bedtime.
• Honey Nut Cheerios: giving me dreams about family members dying.
  
• Perhaps have discovered a way to bottle post-Honey Nut Cheerios milk for resale.
  
• Twitter: it's a good time. You may have noticed how the previous seven bullet points could have been seven separate Tweets. At first, I didn't know if I could channel thoughts to 140 characters, now I feel as though they have a 140 character limit. Working on drawing the line between Twitter and Blog.
  

"Welcome to your twenties"

Hey Blog! Sorry I promise I didn't forget about you, I was just very busy turning one year older. As birthdays go, this one rocked. Although if you're a public surprise-hater like myself, you know that quiet birthdays are never a good sign. You know they haven't forgotten...they've made casual, obligatory, awkward references to the day:

• "Oh. Yeah, your birthday is next week...that's right..."
• "Do you have plans with your family on your birthday? I mean, I was just....wondering."
• "Don't make plans the day after your birthday."
• "Hold on. I have to take this call in the hallway. Away from you."
  

I've decided I should start telling people I love surprises because the second you tell people how much you hate surprises, they start planning. I'll admit, there is no joy like totally exploiting someones hate for surprises, but I think there's extra time in purgatory for getting joy out of such angst.
I woke up to Isle Bun & Coffee from Wit-Knee! because she knows me well and knows that you should need a special license to indulge in something as delicious as these cinnamon rolls. The next night was a roommate fest of piñatas, streamers, Turkish food and toxic amounts of fun.

All in all, it was a lovely birthday, yes, maybe even with the surprises.
Although next year, I promise that if you just tell me where to be and what's going down, I will act surprised and will forfeit less sleep. Deal? Deal.