| She’ll Be Dead by Halftime Visualised by archtomato On Tuesday, March 17, 2009 at 19:05 Hrs | Minimum B.S. Ok ok, I painted my room again. I’ve been living in my current room for years and years and every time I paint it, it kind of gets me down. I look around and I think, “Well, it’s a little bit smaller now.” I realize it’s just the thickness of the paint, but I’m aware of it. It just keeps coming in and coming in. Every time I paint it gets closer and closer and closer. I don’t even know where the wall power outlets are anymore. I can’t even find them. There’s too much paint. I just look for a lump with two slots in it. It looks like a pig is trying to push his nose through from the other side. That’s where I plug in. I like my room. I like it neat and I like it clean. Neat and clean. That’s the way I want to live. My idea of the perfect room would be the bridge on the BattleStar Galactica: big chair, nice TV, remote control. That’s why BattleStar Galactica really is the ultimate male fantasy. Hurtling through space in your living room, watching TV. Hell, that’s why all the aliens were always dropping in, because Adama is the only one who has the big screen in HD. Yup, neat and clean. That’s the way I like it. But I don’t like cleaning. Clean, good. Cleaning, bad. You add the “ing” and it’s a whole different thing. So, I’ve decided to get a maid for my room. That’s right, just my room. But I don’t really feel comfortable with the maid either because there’s that guilt when you have someone cleaning your room and you’re just sitting there doing nothing. Cheers.
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