This post is pretty random. Junior and Jerry left on Saturday, pretty much putting an end to summer. It went quick. In some ways I feel like I didn’t do anything, especially since I bummed it up the entire summer. Using better words, I relaxed to the fullest, mostly to spend time with my brother before beginning his life as a man. He’s going to be working on submarines or something of that sort–he says he can’t tell me. Maybe he’ll be fixing periscopes.
The gym’s been good to us. I was with my friends there more than anywhere else. I must’ve blown a million layups, but that’s what basketball’s about right? Probably not, but saying it made me feel better. PBL starts Sunday and I’m fired up. All I’ll be doing is breaking ankles and making the nets go splash. The previous sentence is 100% false, but I think I’m ready to look less like a bumbling idiot on the court. A little less.
The poker gods have brought entertainment to the terrible group of poker players otherwise known as my friends and me. It’s not gambling if you’re good. Unfortunately, we suck. But three dollars is hardly gambling, especially compared to our debacles at Kenmore Lanes–the gigantic bowling alley with a room that allows people as young as 18 give their money away.
I came up with an explanation of my love for bad movies. There’s no need to pay attention. Sometimes it’s nice to not have to worry about detailed plots and character development. Once in a while I just want to see Coolio crawling on the ceiling and Snake Pliskin toss up full court shots to save his life. Or I might just be getting stupider as time goes on. This is completely possible.
Arrested Development and Gilmore Girls both began airing episodes for the new season. I can’t do much more than tell others to watch the shows. Arrested Development is the funniest show on TV right now, just make sure to start watching from the beginning and catch up. Scrubs, you’ll always have a special place in my heart.
I’m up because I planned on sleeping at two but stayed up a bit and realized I couldn’t make it to bed before three. Now I’m just waiting out the hour so that I don’t become, well, possessed. Seattle will be home again come Friday. Until then, it’s packing time.
