curtis' blog

I’m 19 years old.  I’m turning 20 in October.  I can’t move out of the dorm during the school year until next October.  Boo.

In the meantime, I’ll be living back in the grand ‘ole room 2593.

Does anybody know of an inexpensive futon anywhere around the Collegedale area?

I’ve almost finished moving.  I am finishing up my laundry while it still takes no quarters.  One more load in the SUV.  Then I’ll be officially moved.

Sooo…..  Robby is going to be manning the Writers’ Club (Writer’s Club, Writers Club, whatever) booth at the organizational showcase tomorrow.  I will be manning the WSMC radio station booth.  Robby will get the satisfaction of a job well done.  I will get the satisfaction and the money of a job well done.

Existentially.  Interminably.  Fivesyllablewords.  Isthisannoying?  Iwillstopitthen.

On a totally related note, we went bowling last night (me, Brooke, Robby, Christen, Tyler).  Brooke won the first game and I won the second.  Brooke and Robby were the only two that broke 100 on the first game.  I was the only one that broke 100 on the second.  That’s pretty sad.  I wonder how much a membership at Holiday Bowl costs.  We need to work on that.  As we all know, “practice makes [you slightly less horrible]“.

I downloaded fifty-something episodes of MST3K over the last two days.  Oh, yeah.  That’s Mystery Science Theater 3000 for those of you less fortunate people.  It’s awesome.  These guys keep running comedic commentary on the worst movies ever made.  It’s hilarious.  And we’ll be good for the next year or two of Saturday nights.  I also downloaded a couple seasons of A Bit of Fry and Laurie.  I love cable internet!

On the subject of TV (yes, I watched too much this summer), I’m looking forward to the new show White Collar on USA.  Go look it up.

Sorry for the seemingly random rambling.  I’m a little bit tired.  Volleyball tonight will make it go away.

On a side note to whatever you happened to be thinking (unless you weren’t, which would explain your visit to my blog), the world seems to be collapsing.  Everybody is screaming.  All the scientists tell us that we’re doomed, and that this whole thing is horrible.  Why?  Because apparently the end of the world would be catastrophic to life.  How do scientists know this?  They must use some sort of math.  They also believe that living things are causing this catastrophic event.  So.  Life is killing us.  Go figure.

And, for those of you that think a title ought to have some bearing on the post,  “funambulist” was a vocab word I had in grade 9.  It means tight-rope walker.  I still haven’t forgotten it.

In the spirit of wonderfully bad poetry introduced in Robby’s blog, I shall now attempt to make all English majors’ eyes bleed with my horrid prose:

—————————————

I sit in the computer lab
thinking that my life is fab.
All the while I hit “tab” on my keyboard.
My life is actually drab, and I’m bored.

The white cinder block walls stare at me.
(They must have eyes, but I can’t tell because they are completely white, as cinder blocks are supposed to be.)
The lights are too bright, but I can change that.
There’s this thingy on the desk that can change that.

My computer monitor on the right is the wrong resolution,
making my eyes wander in revolutions.
But my shift is almost over,
making me more lucky than if I had gone out into the field behind the gym and found myself a green four-leaf clover.