As a former member of the Global Media Conspiracy - Television Division, I find that I inherently arrive at things a bit late.
If you watch U.S. local market television news, you'll note that they are doing stories about things you knew about five years ago: "Tonight on News 11: Viruses placed on your computer through websites you use every day could be hurting performance and telling thieves Every Detail Of Your Life!"
As a result of my time in GMC-TD, failure to cotton to trends has made its way into my daily life. I find that I will suddenly be keen on a clothing style just as everyone else is about ready to let it go. I catch onto bands only after they been around for several years. And I am even worse in literature. To this end, I have only just discovered P.G. Wodehouse.
I have that excitement of having found an author that I really like, but feel really stupid for saying anything, since I'm about a century late to the party. At least I have finally arrived at Wodehouse, I suppose. Thanks to Jenny and Chris for that -- they had a Wodehouse book in the room that Rachel and I stayed in last week. If you were to stay in our spare room (which is actually to small to stay in), you would only find the child bride's tawdry romances and two Welsh-language novels that are unreadable even if you understand the language.
I mentioned today to Anthony (point) that I am not drinking enough beer. What the hell is the point of being a washed-up 30-year-old return student if I still go around acting like I'm fully employed and trying to be an upstanding member of society? With only one month to go before classes start, I think I need to work on this aspect of life. I'm sure the child bride would reject this notion.
If you are like me, spending several hours a day sitting in front of a computer, here's a bit of hard-earned advice: That ultra cheap chair at IKEA may seem like a good idea, but it's not. The chair is uncomfortable and wiggles a lot.
On a related note, you seem to you use your whole body when you type. It's very weird when you consider that you are effectively a one-finger typist.
What the hell is wrong with me that Bowling For Soup's "Ohio" makes me feel so heartsick? I am a sap. And not even an eloquent sap.