Roll On

By tomorrow afternoon I could be a high-roller or a bummy college kid. I don't want to jinx anything, of course, so you'll have to wait for deets. Either way it goes, by tomorrow evening I will be en route Back Home to the Midwest, where it's, oh, probably 25 and snowy. And Christmas is coming! And my one-year blogversary! Oh, yes. I will miss, however, Southern State's cute boys and abundance of gay men. There aren't nearly enough of either where I'm going.



I. CANNOT. WAIT. When I first saw this video I just about died...then yelled out "I've been there!" to almost every landmark that came onscreen. Say what you will about him, but I fucks with Kid Rock, especially after this vid...

Sheeza, I've got a lot of packing to do. I never remember what I need for my month-long stay at home, so I end up with sweatshirts, my entire underwear drawer, and barely any real clothes. Lord.

I was reading Amy's like list (adorable, btw), and one of hers was "goodnight texts." Sigh. I adore those, even better when accompanied by a "good morning, babe" text the next morning. It's the little shit like that I miss (I have to be slightly vulgar, see, to keep from being overly sentimental. These memories are tryin' to test my gangsta, and I won't have it). So I don't sink into "slightly depressed mode," throw me a lifeline, ye merry commenters. Give me some good things about being single. Sleeping in the middle of the bed, eating the last piece of cake, burping for the world to hear, you know, stuff like that. God bless in advance for keeping my soul intact.