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"make youself at home, that is if home were a messy, dirty college boy's room."
oh george. ::looks around herself:: don't let him fool you, his place happens to possess more charm than any other in recent memory, if not all across the board. from the 'women' bathroom sign that greets visitors on the front door i knew i was going to love it, and sure enough, i now sit here with a bemused smile, typing on a desk cluttered with mostly-empty hard liquor bottles, computer eye drops (you know you're dealing with a true dork when...) heaps of CD-Rs, a ticket stub from last weekend's gator growl (which no one who has any sort of face to save misses), lighters and breath mints freely spilling into a notice of license suspension due to a delinquent moving citation and strawberry pop tarts. an unsurprisingly empty garfield pez container fixes me with its beady gaze while a pink higlighter seems to be the only writing utensil around. reading material runs the gamut from 'linux for dummies' to 'memoirs of a geisha' and sandwiched in the middle is joseph heller's perennial classic, 'catch 22.' my maroon and pink plaid sock lies bunched and probably still wet on the "coffee" table (a nice middle-class convention, that modifier), on the other end of which, it's worthy to note, currently sleeps the subject of my pseudo-affections, a tall, lanky, well-dressed fellow named mike whose sweatshirt kept me from the ugly clutches of frostbite during the night and continues to protect me from the harsh reality of gainesville in november.
and oddly enough, it was in the midst of this very wasteland (to the untrained observer, of course) that i found my oasis. i've never felt as good just being drunk as i did last night, and there's really nothing like having a boy in the room who draws your attentions to make things even more interesting.
i'll continue this later.
oh george. ::looks around herself:: don't let him fool you, his place happens to possess more charm than any other in recent memory, if not all across the board. from the 'women' bathroom sign that greets visitors on the front door i knew i was going to love it, and sure enough, i now sit here with a bemused smile, typing on a desk cluttered with mostly-empty hard liquor bottles, computer eye drops (you know you're dealing with a true dork when...) heaps of CD-Rs, a ticket stub from last weekend's gator growl (which no one who has any sort of face to save misses), lighters and breath mints freely spilling into a notice of license suspension due to a delinquent moving citation and strawberry pop tarts. an unsurprisingly empty garfield pez container fixes me with its beady gaze while a pink higlighter seems to be the only writing utensil around. reading material runs the gamut from 'linux for dummies' to 'memoirs of a geisha' and sandwiched in the middle is joseph heller's perennial classic, 'catch 22.' my maroon and pink plaid sock lies bunched and probably still wet on the "coffee" table (a nice middle-class convention, that modifier), on the other end of which, it's worthy to note, currently sleeps the subject of my pseudo-affections, a tall, lanky, well-dressed fellow named mike whose sweatshirt kept me from the ugly clutches of frostbite during the night and continues to protect me from the harsh reality of gainesville in november.
and oddly enough, it was in the midst of this very wasteland (to the untrained observer, of course) that i found my oasis. i've never felt as good just being drunk as i did last night, and there's really nothing like having a boy in the room who draws your attentions to make things even more interesting.
i'll continue this later.
