...with a melon...?

09.17.02 @ 5:21 p.m.

How lame am I? I've spent all day playing You Don't Know Jack volume 3 (I prefer Volume 2, but my stupid brother borrowed it and that means I'll never see it again. Same with MDK.) There was, I will admit, a cool Dis or Dat question where I had to identify Zappa children and Pheonix children's names. I don't think that made any sense. I also harbored a wish this morning while watching Monty Python to type out the Storytime sketch. I may still do that, someday.

Speaking of 'Someday', I spent my morning lip-syncing to some Barenaked Ladies and The Strokes. Fun. I had fun pretending my stereo remote was a microphone, until I became convinced that my dad had tried to yell something at me over the music, which he hadn't, or else he's lying.

He lied last night. We watched the first tape of Giant with Elizabeth Taylor and James Dean, and my parents had to go to bed. I insisted on taking the second tape to watch that night, though my parents tried to dissuade me so we could 'all watch it together.' Dad didn't do a good job when he read the summary out of our movie guide book, which said the movie holds up well when not divided up into two nights. He read this, I said "Ha!" and he said "Oh, I lied, I just made that up." Nooo, I picked up the book and there it was in print. He lied when he said he lied.

Maybe this is a disconcerting similarity between our personalities, which, as I have noted in the past, is something I truly want to avoid. I used to lie a lot. I can look people in the eye and lie to them most of the time. I don't really do it any more. It's like swearing in that respect, though I've kind of started to swear again in life. I don't think I ever really stopped swearing in writing.

This morning I was lying in bed and the dog was put outside. She barked and barked and barked, so I said "Fucking dog" and rolled over. That's when I discovered that my dad was out here on the computer and started to yell at the dog to shut up through the window. I'm afraid to bring up the subject, but I kind of want to know if Dad heard me say "Fucking dog."

Now that I've been scattered and random, I think I want to go get something to eat or something. I can't tell if I'm hungry or compulsive. And I think I should maybe draw a little. Amy did drop off her Cher photos the other night, but I've lost the urge to draw them. There isn't anything I want to draw, but I just found a box of good pencils and now what? I also recently found my watercolor crayons.

And I'm bored. I should cherish this boredom, for all too soon I shall have to pack up and return to Eugene.