Bathrobes, Vidya, and Tension.

I was at the Gym today, when I started the other lifters on the topic of bathrobes. Sparrow owns this big, poofy bathrobe. Like, Looks Like an Angel's Toga big and poofy. If he smoked a pipe, or sat across a grand fireplace in it, it'd be the ultimate deal-sealer for awesome. We got rolling with the topic, just sitting there, going on about materials, why you'd wear one, and even some neat childhood stuff from not-just-me.

I wish I had more conversations like that. Most of the time, it's just people grunting and lifting metal, though.

Awhile back, though? We got this guy named Teriq started on Black Hole Theory. I was astonished - you don't expect a sweaty lifter to explain Schwarzchild Radius to you. I actually clapped for him, and then we sat back, laughing at the term, "Spaghettification", which is a recognized scientific term for when objects seem to stretch infinately as they pass the event horizon of a black hole. We both agreed it to be "The George Bush of Space Terms".

I miss punching the crap out people in Fallout. Someday, doctorly as I hope to be, and regardless of the brutal sciences described earlier, I'd love to pick New Vegas up after all its hype's died off, and fisticuff the daylights out of Nevada.

I've gotten the first offer on my computer - a nice $300. I'm pretty certain I'm going to take it, because you just don't get offers like that, and it ups my current funding to $450, which is nice for having just payed out the nose for a few birthdays. Hello, New York Hotels. I feel good, especially, because $300 is the price-tag on a Yugo I saw for sale awhile back - my experience driving is almost non-existant and I'm a hazard on the road, but I'd love to own a terrible crappy car, someday. Like a Trabant.

Also, embarrassing and overly-open as it is, I finally got to squeeze in some "relief" today. I have been essentially sleeping when I get home and take care of dinner, which has been a reoccuring statement and running problem, lately, because people play very loud music at 9:00 PM - 11:00 PM here, with the addition of drunken company in my home as of late. I've been getting pent-up with my sleep-early-prioritizing, and trying to ignore the fact that every flirty remark I get makes me excited enough to please several sailors and a fraternity ward, but finally, I've gotten to square it away, and now I'm almost certain I'll sleep a little easier without grinding my sheets in desperation...

In a blunt change of topic, I've been having bizarre dreams. In almost all of them, I'm savagely beaten, and then left to ponder what to do. I had one where someone who had these brass knuckles on just punched the daylights out of me. (Probably Nevada, getting revenge in my dreamscapes.) I don't remember why, but I remember they had those ones with the big, square lettering, so they look sort of like a set of rings? And they had something written on them, but I couldn't read it very well, because after they punched me, the imprints on my skin were mirrored...

I didn't know what to do - It was like that one where the woman smashed my bones with the shotgun's stock, I just kind of sat back and contemplated the possible ways of getting treatment, or if I'd even broken anything at all.

Someday, a dashing Nurse's Cap will treat me of all my ailments, and cherry blossoms will breeze by, too. I know these dreams are pure fiction, so long as Doctor Pyonta is on my side.

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