My friends are so depressed

I've decided that my favorite thing to do late at night involves freaking out my roommates' friends. I love making them stare at me like I'm some sort of freak. Twice so far, as I left the shower there are knocks on the door for them and since no one else is home, I answer in a towel, dripping wet. It's great because the reactions are usually =0 then =x which leads to =). Yeah, it's a good time. This one dude didn't know what to do when I opened the door, so he just pretended like I was actually clothed, not soaking through my white towel (sounds sexy...it's really not). He walked away smiling. Tonight, a girl was at the door and she was just in awe that I bothered to even come to the door. She wound up smiling too. Yeah, I like to answer the door in my towel because no one ever expects it. I just love the reactions. Maybe I'll become famous and I'll be Miss Towel of Rotterdam. Everyone comes knocking on our door just because I may or may not answer in a towel. Yeah. I like that idea. ahhhhhh.....

I'm pretty sure my sleep tonight will be solid. I shouldn't wake up for shit. Even if Allie and Mernelis decided to start a hardcore tamborine/harmonica band tonight/early this morning with everyone in Rotterdam, making my bed their stage...I still wouldn't wake up. My body is fucking exhausted but I like it because it means that I've been keeping busy. Basically, last night at the gym, I did the crosstrainer (on levels 12 and 19) for an hour, making my legs spaz the last ten minutes and they were cursing me for it. Then, like a dumbass, I went to Dave's even though I was exhausted and I didn't leave 'til after midnight, and didn't actually fall asleep until 2am. I was up by 7am to catch the train for Manhattan. Our trip to the city today was nothing but walking. Walking through MoMA, the subways, Greenwich Village, the busy streets...oy. My legs hated me. Then, Karen and I still went to the gym tonight and I did the treadmil three times, the elliptical (sp?), the stairmaster and rowing machine. So now my body is about to shut down. Karen and I are even awesomer because we're going tomorrow morning to be productive and sexy. It'll seem like we're being productive, but we're just flaunting the sexiness. I'm hoping to concentrate on upper body tomorrow morning because I've been doing a lot of cardio and lower body. Fuck yeah, my legs are strong! I could kick an elephant down the stairs with my pinky toe. Yeah, true story.

Guess what! Oswald went to the gym last night. Why? Because he loves me. Oswald loves it when I get all hot and sweaty, so he followed me to the gym, but kept his distance by Karen on the bikes. Yeah. He wants me. I have to go back to him in a few days to check up on TAP, so maybe we can play some counselor/student in his office. Let's just say it involves g-strings and cash. Use your imagination.

I read Jen's blog tonight; I had some catching up to do on her writing. She got me thinking about writing and why it's so important as a function. I can't imagine not writing somehow, some way. I know that blogging isn't technical creative writing. I know sharing my gym sex adventures and opinions on toilet paper isn't necessarily going to win me a Pulitzer Prize, but I know I have decently faithful readers in dot com land, and they keep coming back for some reason or another. Oy. Well, she wrote an eloquent blog about writing and how it's as natural to her as breathing. And I loved that she wrote about writing. I feel the same way. My professor asked me what kind of blog I had and I didn't really know what to tell him. What kind of blog do I have, exactly? I suppose it's a mixture of fiction, non-fiction, autobiography, satire, symbolism, short stories, poems, music, etc. It's basically honest and sometimes fucked up. It's just my mind. I feel like I need to write in this fucking thing daily to keep my sanity. If I don't tell you about my gym workouts, friends, feelings or vaginal callouses (teehee) it rots inside of me and goes to complete waste. And my creativity goes with it. I have a tick in me and I'm restless until I tickle the computer keyboard and produce a bunch of words that make sense (somehow). I appreciate writing and good writers because it shows a true insight of the world and most importantly yourself. Knowing literature and writing it is true intelligence. I don't care what anyone says.

I'm gonna watch TV until I pass out.

Good night foo.