The fantasy for one woman...

Waiting for my laundry to finish drying. Still have about 30 minutes, and I need a post for Sunday.

D, D, D. I promise, things will turn up. One day you'll wake up to find that huge diamond on your hand, the roomie will be locked away in some ass-raping prison, and you'll find a phone with a blinking red light that serves as a direct connection to FBombAndy whenever necessary. I do not know why I refer to myself as FBombAndy, when it is obvious that I am referring to myself no matter what crazy name I throw out there. But anyway, above you on the ceiling will be a giant poster of that lead singer from Incubus. When you sit up, you'll find out that the real guy is bringing you some french toast for breakfast in bed. T.P. will call you up to tell you the Mavs just won the NBA championship. Shawn Bradley will show up at your door with a basketball, throw it down on the ground, clap his hands, and argue about a foul that was called, turning beet-red in the process.

All of that...came from nowhere. My imagination is flowing, or at least it was. I don't know. But wouldn't you just love it, D?

I'm really trying to think of some inspirational lyrics or something to help out, but I have no idea. Hmm...

Nope. Nothing. I'm not good with finding inspiration for other people. If I typed one song on here, it would be misinterpreted and FBombAndy would be dead. Surely whoever I was dedicating it to would show up at my dorm with all intentions of explaining how that song 'broke their spirit, and now I must suffer.' There goes my imagination again.

I know I tend to let compliments roll off my back. The whole "T.P. and I agree that you rule" is cute and I do smile. But I really don't think I do anything extraordinary. Besides, if I rule, then why aren't there peasants kissing the ground I walk on? Yea, that's a little much. I try though...

I wonder what next year is going to be like...

Alright, another post in maybe 15 minutes. Yea!