Pictures of You, Pictures of Me

What the?! Two posts in the same number of days?!? Is that even possible? Why yes, yes it is.  And quite honestly, I don't appreciate your condescending attitude.  Sometimes a guy just want to blog, and you judging him isn't helpful.

So here's the deal, yo.  I decided I was going to challenge myself to see how many days in a row I could get on and post something; unfortunately, I did so knowing full well that I'm going into a three day weekend with my brohas and that I'm not going post these next couple days.  Whatevs.  The problem with this exercise is as follows: I'm freaking boring.  I mostly work, sleep and go to class. So most of my stories are like this: "I got up at 3:30. It sucked. The end."  Except, when I blog, I tend to embellish things, so it would sound a little like this: "I got up at 3:30. It really sucked. Definitely the end."  It's why I post as infrequently as I do. Interesting things only happen to me once every three weeks.

So in the meantime, I'll tell you about something that's less interesting, and more creepy.  For those of you without an intimate knowledge of my roommate's personal life (and why don't you?), Mark's computer background cycles through all of his pictures, bringing back fond memories.  Except for recently. Somehow, that function got turned off and the picture everyone sees everytime he opens his computer is this one:



And people doubt our roomie love...

 ... Well, if that isn't awkward, I don't know what is.

Additionally, I had one of the most embarassing experiences of my life today, no big deal.  I was chilling like a villain in the kitchen (best sentence I have ever written, btw. Incidental rhyming for the win!) with Mark when someone came and knocked on our door.  Now I'm about to tell you, my loyal viewership, something I don't tell very many people about myself. I really like opening the door. So immediately I jumped up and, this is the key part, called dibs on opening the door.  Now anybody with a soul would let me open the door at this point, amirite?  Not my roommate, Adam. He's all like "It's for me," or some other excuse thinking that it would override dibs, or something (Love ya, bro <3).  Oh no, he didn't. At this point I'm ready to rip the head off of [something that would complete this phrase and make me seem manly and angry].  I come bounding down the hall with the closing speed of the car the clipped Dale Earnhardt, Jr.* screaming threats up the yin yang.  Specifically, I will kill you... I will slaugh...  Halfway through the word "slaughter," Adam opens the door, and standing there is this lady I don't know with a petrified look on her face.  His aunt.  I land, seeing as I was legitimately bounding, pause, turn around and walk away like nothing happened.  Then I cried because of my own stupidity.

Anyways, the aforementioned mentioned brohas just arrived, peace out ladies and gents.
The Mattster

*This piece of topical humor brought to you by my time spent watching Sportscenter at work.