Prime Time

My sister was in the living room today, playing Skyrim. I was watching while I ate. Suddenly, Xbox popped up a message reading, "SmokamusPrime" sent you a message."
I asked, "So, Smoke-a-mus.... Prime?"
Amanda (roommate, Todd), shook her head, "I don't know who that is, honestly."
She opened the message while I was still reciting the username. The message read, "I'm comming all over your face baby."
The only thing I could say, after laughing, was that he used the wrong 'cumming.'
Mom was in the room, I was in the room. Poor naive sister trying hard to get me to stop laughing at her.

Okay, so, went to Fallon's sister's house, Becky.
Guess what I did.
That's right.
Taught them how to knit. Well, taught them the basics of knitting. All they learned today, really, was garter stitch. Becky actually got ahead to 2x2 ribbing. They were doing really well. I forgot to bring my first square ever knitted. So, yeah, Fallon, I will link it... here. So there is nothing to feel bad about. I've had to rip out dozens of projects before. I would get so angry that I would get light-headed, but it comes with the process. That's where I learned patience. I used to be some hot head, now look at me... Haha. I was going to make a joke here, but couldn't think of one good enough.

My cat just trampled into my room. I gave him a ball. Well, rolled it to him, but he ran away from it.

I can't wait until they get good enough and we can do a little knitting circle, like the one full of old bitches that come to Barnes and Noble. I'm working on an afghan started two years ago. I am just full of ... it.

Now to go write and read some more Charles Bukowski. Trying to stop with the erotica. I swear I don't know why I keep reading it. I wonder if they're interventions, support groups for this sort of thing. I mean, there has to be a moment in a meth head's life where they're like, "This is Hell, but I still want it." That's right, comparing my sober reading to people slowly killing themselves. These books aren't even good! Just like some of the buzzes you could get. Some of them are horrible and you're thinking in that paranoid state, "I'll never do this again! If I make it through this, I'll never do it again! Just let me make it through the night." And then it's there again, in your eyesight and it's hard to just ignore it. Maybe I'm thinking too much into it. Hell, I don't have to think while I'm reading it.
Oh God....
I'm turning books into television....