Soap.

I am sincerely sorry that it has taken me this long to get another post out, remember the days of three posts in a twenty-four hour time span? Lovely times.

So many things are taking place in my life, and yet, nothing is truly relevant or worth writing about so I won't bore you with the details.

I feel like lately (and I'm chalking this up to Ze Frank) I've been louder and more confusing. Today I was watching television and they were talking about body types. They said if you could wrap your fingers around your wrist and they overlapped, you had a small frame. If they just touched, medium. And if they couldn't touch at all, large.

With my freakishly small wrist and large man hands, mine most certainly overlapped in the plenty. At this I started complaining at the television, in a semi-frustrated shout I cried "But what about the ones with freakishly small wrists!?" My mother soon after she heard me said I should seek medical attention "It's common knowledge: Televisions can't hear."

Long weekend is coming. How shall you remember the dead? In Remembrance will you: a) Buy a poppy. b) Get your drunk on. c) Party like it's 1979. d) All the above. I know what my answer is.

Tonight Robert and I watched Fight Club (which I purchased tonight along with the Breakfast Club. This particular choice in movie-viewing is probably why this whole post sounds like it's coming from some brain-washed homeless person). In this movie, one of my favourite quotes exist. I remember McKayla reciting it to me years ago. I haven't stopped pondering it yet:

"An entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war. Our Great Depression is our lives."