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I officially have eight minutes left of my work day, and here I am, writing to you. I’m spending the last eight minutes of my day, here. With you. That says something, doesn’t it?

I wonder how much I can type in oh.. seven minutes now.

Hmm.

I could give you blips of what’s gone on in the last, oh, four months. My nephew, Griffin, was born. I won a photography contest. I’m taking a trip to Montreal in April. (Tabarnac!) I recently got back into contact with Gloria. I got a roommate that is polyamorous, and I’m telling you, that shit’s better than Guiding Light - I can’t stop listening to her stories about how her main boyfriend is dating H, but she wants to marry her main boyfriend, but that’s not going to change anything in the ways of their arrangement, and then somehow, all three of them wind up in my living room watching movies one night, and wow. She’s great, though - couldn’t ask for a better roommate. Oh, I know there’s other stuff. I’m too busy scoping the clock out, because hey, in uh, look at that. Three minutes, I’m out of here. It’s off to the store, then to come home and start mass amounts of laundry that could likely clothe a mid-size village in Kenya, and clean my bathroom.

This is my life. I know right now, you’re jealous. Don’t even try to hide it, y’all. You, too, wish you could come over and clean the depths of my toilet.

Maybe tonight, I’ll blow up some nazis with G. Nothing says kickass Monday night in Casa Shindley like blowing some nazi’s head off, then knifing his crotch til there’s nothing left!

I’m leaving work now. 4pm, straight up. Happy Monday!

So apparently US spies want to find terrorists in World of Warcraft.

So does this mean that I’m going to have the secret service knocking on my door because I roled a horde warrior that could secretly mean, oh, I dunno, a WARRIOR FOR THE JIHAD? It seems pretty ludicrous to me. What are your thoughts?

P.S. - Hey, secret service - there’s some massive action happening over in the Crossroads! Might wanna check it out. These big orc guys come in and kill everyone in sight for no reason! Then they do a dance on top of your corpse. It’s … It’s what the U.N. would maybe label a massacre! Maybe Bush could get on this one, perhaps take the WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION! (Destruction!…destruction!) from those filthy trolls!

There are two parts. So, with that, I give you… TOM ET SES CHUMS! (via Garret)

Well, I’ve decided to jump on the weight loss bandwagon, for the 8,200,384th time. Hey, as long as I’m trying that’s all that counts, right? Calorie counting has always worked well with me. It’s basic, nearly everything has labels with calories splayed across it, and it doesn’t require much effort. I decided to give this another go when I stepped on the scale yesterday morning, and nearly fainted from the number that came up. It’s easy to let yourself fall into a depression when nearly everything in your life seems out of whack, but I’m determined to not let it get me down too much. The job search has been emotionally taxing, to say the least, and the stress of needing to find something in the matter of six weeks before unemployment runs out, has driven me to stuff my face with pretty much anything and everything. It’s always been my vice; my comfort. It’s also going to kill me, if I don’t put a stop to it.

On a lighter note, I met a cool chick friend named Chris, via Facebook’s ‘new to Portland’ thread. We hung out last night, talked boys, religion, work, past, present, etc. It was fun getting out and meeting someone I have some things in common with. I’m not generally good at meeting people, so this was nice. Hopefully she and I can get together soon.

Been playing World of Warcraft with Paul, Wade, Cam, and Branden. Seems we have the perfect little group going. We’re around level 10. Branden likes to kill poor innocent rabbits with one slight of his hand, just because he can. He’s a meanie, and a twisted little bugger - that’s why we get along, I think. Wade likes to talk on the voice chat thing in the game, like it’s a CB radio.

Me: K, so let’s meet in Razor Hill, Kshhh, over.
Paul: Fine.
Me: You didn’t say over, over.
Paul: *sigh*… Over. You’re crazy. I just want you to know that.
Me: Over.
Paul: What?
Me: You didn’t say over twice, over.
Paul: *sigh*…. Good God. Over.
Me: Copy that. 10-4, good buddy.

I’m a nerd. And I love every minute of it.

(Stolen from Jeremy)