The voices in my head aren't voices. They are vuvuzela buzzes.

Two posts in the course of a week. I hope none of you suffer a heart attack. This is out of the ordinary for me. By now, you are all accustomed to my usual slacker-like attitude when it comes to this blog. Don't get me wrong though, I am by no means saying that I have changed my ways and will update more frequently. That would just be giving you false hope that I actually want to open a weekly or biweekly window into my mundane life. Instead, I will continue to sporadically update my blog whenever I feel necessary. Deal with it.

With all that legal stuff out of the way, let's get to the topic at hand. Tonight's Topic: Tattoos.

Today, while doing the very important task of making sure there were enough skeeballs in Skeeball Lane #3, I looked up to see Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise staring right back at me with his benevolent gaze that I grew up watching on the television. Right behind him, almost flanking him, was the quizzical, and almost curious, stare of Lt. Cmdr. Data. For a minute, I thought that I had been transported away to a fantastic journey that I always dreamed of as a younger me. Upon further inspection, I realized that it was indeed just a piece of artwork on a random guy's right leg. After I quelled my need to scream in a geek-like cry of passion, I finished loading balls into skeeball and went on my way.

A few minutes later, this guy came to me with a request for assistance with another game. I couldn't contain my nerdgasam any longer and, as I pushed my glasses further up onto the bridge of my nose, I blurted out that I "absolutely loved" his tattoo. This started a shortlived, yet beautiful, five minute friendship. We spent all of our friendship talking about Star Trek and ended on the most heartwarming note, both agreeing that Star Trek: Deep Space Nine was the best of the Star Trek television series. We went our separate ways. I would like to think that as he walked away, he thought about how charming of a fellow I was and how glad he was that our paths had crossed on this fateful afternoon. In fact, I KNOW that is what he was thinking.

I just smiled to myself and thought about how I would be able to justify cutting off his right leg and keeping it for myself.

...Home of the Molten Goat!

I don't have a very good excuse for waiting this long in between posts. The only excuse I can think of is that I have been too busy with my life to sit down for a half hour every couple of days and put my thoughts onto "paper", so to speak. The last few months have just caught me by surprise and trapped me in a sort of temporal anomaly. I feel like just last week, Lisa and I were looking for a new place to live and it wasn't even May yet. Now, it is the middle of July, we have a house, and the baby might be here any day.

You learn a lot when purchasing a new house. You learn even more when you purchase a house with in-laws. You start to learn everyone's boundaries and that what might seem like an acceptable "joke" to you is offensive to the other person. You learn to be a little more patient with people and you learn that even though you don't want to, sometimes the best action is to step back and let someone have their own way. The biggest thing I struggle with is sharing my things, especially my Xbox. But, even though there are times that I feel like just freaking out and being selfish, I have found that the better option is to just let it be and schedule my playing time around Ryan's playing time. Besides, my days of Xbox playing are numbered. More important things are coming.

With four very opinionated people living under the same roof, I thought for sure that we would have had the cops out to the house at least once a week by now. But, aside from a couple of stress induced spats, I think we are getting along pretty well.

Only time will tell if we can hold out and finish out the year peacefully. As long as we keep the scotch cold and the Coca-Cola in stock, I'll be happy.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless Blackberry