Today's a good day to speak at great length on several closely-related topics I've borne in mind lately. Why did I give today such an assessment? Because I'm at my creative best when its purpose is to keep me occupied to the extent that I cannot fathomably be drawn away to do the things that really should be done (read: I don't feel like working on my car yet).
The aforementioned closely-related topics will now be presented in no particular order (which is, I think, a certain form of order in itself, since it implicitly prevents the items from being listed, in arithmetical terms, in 'numerical order'; there is an order inherent in something that prevents the exact same condition in every incidence).
#6: Andrey Hardy brings out the college freshman in everyone.
I can't think of many recent times spent hanging out with Andrey that didn't result in a 4am or later bedtime. The 'wee hours of the morning' don't exist for me in the typical fashion when in Andrey's company... moreso, they become the ass-end of my evenings (not to attribute any rectal qualities to the time spent with him, of course). The man turns potential 'good-mornings' into 'killer last-nights', and for that I thank him. I haven't felt this resilient, satiated, and joyfully careless with my own health since... um (pausing for dramatic effect, and to help break an excessively long sentence into more palatable grammatical kibbles n' bits), since I was an eighteen-year-old die-hard Engineering House underling putting in my second weekly 40-hour day toward making EH propaganda for open-house events, or toward painting the rock, or toward some other lunacy. It feels wonderful, like being able to revisit fun-times-past without the melancholy downer of knowing those times will never be had again, since the revisitation is birthed out of the continuation or repetition of such experiences.
#42,097,463: The best television show ever is '24'.
'24' brings a third dimension to what was previously a 2-dimensional world of television programming. The writing is so gut-wrenchingly compelling, so much more dramatic than 'drama' has ever been known to be. Kiefer Sutherland plays the rawest motherfucker on the planet. The tension is so thick it can't be cut with a knife; Primacord would be better. The show is so hard to watch one-episode-per-sitting; the cliffhangers that can come predictably every hour on the hour (some writers are sadistic with the pacing of the story - sick, sick, sick.) prevent that. Where am I going with all this? Well, I refused to watch Season 4 as it was broadcast because, like I said, I can't watch one episode. The pressure of having to wait an entire week for the next installment coupled with the potential tragedy of missing an episode and being unable to find one online before the next airs is just too much for me to handle today. Hell, it would've been too much for my eighteen-year-old Andrey-Hardified self to handle (however many years ago that was). The remedy? Wait impatiently for the entire season to air, then wait for online availability, then download it in six-episode chunks to gluttonize upon when I should be spending the time fixing my car.
#2: I am chock-full of ADD.
Want proof? I started this post at 1pm. It's 2:30 now. I was supposed to wake up and work on my car. I can't even procrastinate efficiently - I got up from blogging to change my cat's litter box, I came back to the computer, found some more '24' torrents to download, then started writing more of the blog and decided instead to count the number of hyphens that appear in this entry. There are 24, and I did that on purpose.
You want the number of apostrophes? Count 'em yourself.
