What I wish I could take back? My circumcision. Gimme my foreskin back, Dr. Whatshisname.

AND WE'RE DONE. WOOOOOOOO. NO MORE BLOG-A-DAY. Y'ALL GON' MAKE ME LOSE MY MIND, UP IN HERE, UP IN HERE.

I kinda miss it, actually. Having something I must do every day, and usually doing so in a ridiculous and often unnecessarily revealing way that makes readers envision my penis. Sigh. Maybe I should.. yes, yes. YES. OH MY FUCK, YES.

I'm starting a blog.

On at least two occasions while working at Tim Hortons, I've made a sandwich that consisted of ham, ranch dressing, and at least nine slices of various cheeses on a cheese croissant. To this day, it is the best sandwich I have ever eaten. I would get it all the time, but in addition to being awful for my innards, it would confuse the employees if I were to order it, especially if they're new. It really only works if I'm the one that enters it into the cash register. Sigh. Some day we'll meet again, sandwich.

This is another one I have a problem with. I don't have a "Gf Or Bf", and my crushes are too freaking sporadic. I mean, there is one person I've fancied more frequently than anyone else (and it isn't that person I wrote that terrible song about that I only like physically), but not only would writing about her be uninteresting to everyone but me, it would be incredibly creepy seeing as she hasn't been single in forever, and frankly she's better off with what's his name. Like, it's not that I think I'm inferior or anything, they just seem to get along really well, and it would be horrible of me to wish for them to break up. Plus I'm rather awkward in person. I'd need to work on that first.

Heh. I guess I technically did write about my crush. Mission accomplished.

What annoys me? Natives. I mean, racists.

Ok, a funny memory. I don't know if I can think oAHAHAHAHA OH MAN. YOU GOTTA HEAR ABOUT THIS ONE TIME. OK, SO ME AND DAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA HOLY FUCK, OK. SO WE'RE ALL PLAYING BASKETBALL, RIGHT? AND ALL OF A SUDDEN WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THIS IS THE FUNNIEST STORY JESUS CHRIST. ANYWAY, IT TURNS OUT THE HOOOP HAD FHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ALL OVER THE PAVEMENT.

You had to have been there.

I mean, I guess part of the reason why I didn't post Day Twelve when I was supposed to was because I had a gig that day, but it was mostly because the subject was a thing that makes me depressed, and I couldn't think of a single thing that makes me depressed. Until now, that is.

Obligatory blog topics depress me. I thought this would be fun, and most days it is, but on days like this, it makes me wonder why I started. It's assumed that I've been significantly depressed, which I guess I sorta have, but never for a reason that's interesting enough to write about. I've been depressed because I'm almost nineteen and I'll have to make something of myself soon and I don't feel like my childhood should be over. There have been days where I've been inexplicably sick of music and realized that without it, I don't have much else going for me. But these are pretty minor, boring things. I haven't had a parent die. I haven't stolen Jebediah Springfield's head and had hallucinations of it talking me into remorse. I feel awesome damn near all the time. So until something awful happens to me (here's hoping never), I'll blow blog-commitment-related angst way out of proportion.

..I really couldn't do this one yesterday unless I went to bed before midnight, which I didn't. Technically, I didn't go to bed at all. I fell asleep on a couch. Couches are so comfortable, partly because I'm not intended to sleep there. It's a jillion times easier to fall asleep if I'm not trying to.

Lemme see if I can remember what I did yesterday. Uh, I woke up on the couch again, ate and drank food and caffeine and stuff, and burned an unethically acquired game to a disk as requested by my sister's boyfriend. The rest of the day consisted mostly of NES games. Specifically ridiculously difficult ones, which I usually avoid, but I felt like a challenge for some reason, so I played games like Battletoads and Dragon's Lair (note: never play the NES version of Dragon's Lair; it's fucking awful).

Eventually, my father arrived, which made me remember that I was supposed to vacuum for some reason. Seriously, the floor looked fine. Who cares about the occasional lint speck? Whilst vacuuming, my father reminded me that I smelled awful and demanded that I shower. I was going to anyway at some point, but I did so sooner than was planned.

Afterward, we all gathered 'round the TV and watched Jeopardy! Apparently it was one of those celebrity episodes, but my eighteen-year-old brain didn't recognize them. Oh man, you shoulda seen this flamboyant guy named Isaac. Regardless of whether he knew the answer, he shook his hands wildly trying to think of it, and his voice was the most hilariously stereotypical gay person voice.

I then put on a blazer for no apparent reason and headed over to Ross' [Hobbs, rhythm guitarist for Sea-Sekshun] house to drop off half of the tickets I have for our upcoming show (BE THERE) so he could sell some on the first day of school. Unexpectedly, I was there for several hours, which means that the lengthy conversation between me, him, and his girlfriend wasn't awkward.

The day ended with more TV, including episodes of Life with Derek (shut up; my sister was in the room) and Craig Ferguson. I am a sloth. The only exercise I got was the brief walks to Ross' house. Much like a platypus, I ostensibly don't do much, but I'm actually a secret agent.. minus the secret agent part.

This is starting to feel like eighteen days of creative writing assignments for an English class. I get a break when it only consists of a photo or a song, but I still have to put thought into a topic I didn't come up with. Geh. Here goes:

Soft kittens. Orange pekoe. The music of Julian Koster. The smell of vinyl records. Outdated video games. Attractive people who aren't aware that I'm staring at them. Dairy.

These are sentence fragments. They are also things that make me happy. Peace, bitches.

This is stupid. Everyone does these things. But I've already done three days of this blog a day thing. I can't quit now.

*sigh* Every morning I wake up, dress myself, brush my teeth, have a mug of caffeine, check Facebook, watch some TV, listen to some stuff in my iTunes, shower, dry off, get out my cardboard cutout of Emily Osment, masturbate, draw a pentagram in the carpet, sacrifice a sheep, eat the sheep's corpse, vomit, eat the vomit, vomit again, cut myself, cry, and brush my hair.

There. God, that was bland. However, day five is a picture of something that makes me sad. So, look forward to that.