robglazebrook.com

Why is it that my comments are only nearly ever either a conversation between Eric and myself, or a conversation between two people who aren’t me, and almost never anything to do with what I wanted comments on? I’m feeling feedback-deprived.

Only nearly ever either. I like the sound of that for some reason. Great. Now it’s going to be stuck in my head all day. I’ve had strange stuff stuck in my head all morning. For instance, as I was getting in the shower, I was thinking (voices and all): “Oh Lord, bless this thy holy hand grenade, that with it we may blow thine enemies to bits, who, being naughty in your sight, shall snuff it.” As I was getting dressed, I was thinking: “Where’s Elizabeth?” “She’s safe, like I promised. She’s all set to marry Commodore Norrington, just like she promised, and you get to die for her, just like you promised. So in the end, we’re all men of our word. Except Elizabeth, who is, in fact, a woman.” The former is (or at least is similar to) a line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and the latter is a couple of lines from Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (also known as PotC:tCotBP).

Oh, and that picture of me was taken two days ago by my friend / co-worker / roommate-as-of-tomorrow Mark, with his new digital camera (that ~I~ helped pick out, thankyaverrahmuch). I thought everyone might have forgotten what I look like, since I don’t get a chance to see my fans as often as I’d like. *g* The first thing out of my mouth when I saw the picture? “Wow. I -do- look like Jesus.” See, that’s been my new nickname amongst my friends recently, ousting the older yet beloved ‘Zombie’, though they’re still used interchangeably. Zombie, because of some hoser who calls himself Rob Zombie. Jesus, because I guess I look like the westernized ideal of a middle-eastern Jew. I never said my friends were creative. I just said they were my friends. :)

So anyway. Today sucks, in general, and also specifically. I’m going to be up until the wee hours of the morning packing, methinks (’wee’ hours aren’t nearly as fun as the name suggests). Otherwise, my dad and Ryan will find themselves moving individual trinkets as opposed to large boxes. Easier, yes, but less expedient. I’ve been too busy studying for various tests and quizzes to have a go at it as yet. And something tells me Megan isn’t going to feel particularly motivated to help me put things in boxes.

Have a day. Have a good one, if you can afford such luxuries. Anyone who feels like helping me pack may report to my apartment this evening. *g* Though you may want to call first, since I’m considering making a few preliminary runs to the house. Lorenzo’s already turned me down. Hoserface.