I discovered some refrigerator magnet poetry I wrote earlier in the year. I used a template handed out by R.I.T. to incoming freshman last year.
Here it goes:

Break her
She Bad
Bad

Me Friend
Like Eat

I please you?

I think it's a vast improvement over my last piece. I can't for the life of me think of a title, though. To that end, I leave you the reader (note the singularity of that subject, Mom), to title it.
Although, I'm suddenly strucken by the thought that I should title it I please you?

In an effort to become a compendium of all sorts of useless shit, I find myself visiting eHow.com and Dictionary.com with relative frequency.
I'm learning how to tie a bow tie right now, as I have one and think it needs more use.
If you can think of an excuse for me to wear it without looking extremely out of place, you get a prize, and I swear it'll be better than a kick in the teeth with a rusty bucket clad foot. Sorry Grampa!

Oh! Also The Guide.

I do believe that this article needs a headline change. Because that's all you need to read.

Hey! Lets read about what happened today!

Break update:
Here is a recap of the events of this last break from school, for those who missed it.
My car died. She had an operation here, an expensive operation, but it did nothing. I got home and sent her to the morgue. Latest news, however, says that the Lazarus effect is kicking in, and I'll be able to drive her soon. Theoretically drive her, she's in Maine and I'm in New York.
So I didn't have a car at all over break.
When I got home, I also didn't have water. My house had no running water. I had to go to my dad's house to shower and do laundry. We did, however, acquire water in a fairly speedy manner. I was relieved.
I read Lord of the Rings; Return of the King and The Da Vinci Code. Lord of the Rings is excellent, The Code has some cool ideas, but the writing is not fantastic, in my humble opinion.
I watched movies.
I snowboarded for a day with Jeremy. That was fun. Legitimately fun. I hadn't snowboarded in years, but it felt good. Although my bum was sore the next day. Not even from falling! It was from using different muscles differently.
I rode back to school with Jeremy and Patrick.
And finally I saw The Triplets of Belleville which gets a flamingly awesome recommendation from me. Be warned, though, others found it to be slow.
Mindless.

I recently found something online that I wrote years ago. Alright, found makes it sound like I stumbled across it. It was not entirely an accident. But I wanted to see if this was still up, which it was.
Ah the miracles of the internet.
The link: Blowing your nose (if you have one)

I've been cooking lately. Not just the quesadillas and sandwiches I've been making all year, but things like Chili. The chili was fairly good. It wasn't fantastic, but it got eaten quickly and complaintlessly. It was better reheated, which is because it was thicker, I guess, and the way to make it thicker from the start is to add a bit of flour. Or so says my mom. I'll try it. Right now I've got some "Apricot Chicken" in the crock pot. I'm looking forward to it. And tomorrow I'm having Paprika Chicken pita things. Its all prepared, I just have to cook it.
I like cooking. It makes me proud to have good food that I made. Even bad food, it can only get better. Plus, you've got to eat your whole life, so why not be good at it?
I hear my uncle figured out how to make bread in his crock pot while he was in college. That's devotion to cooking that I don't quite have.

There's a song on my playlist called "Never End, Never End, Never End" from the game Silent hill. Its 46 seconds long.

Speaking of massacring music, this site does a wonderful job at killing any feeling that the instruments/voices bring to a song and making it feel cheap and if it had a smell it would smell like the dollar store.
No offense to the dollar store, but its a distinctive smell which I associate with crap.

About half of my house is an addition. The front half is all original material, but the second story, the kitchen, the bath room and the study are all new. The study doesn't very often get called that, it has a more sinister name. The Scary Room.
When the addition was being built I was young, three to five, I'd like to say. It was built largely by people we knew with the know how to operate tools and make boards fit together with small, pointy metal things called nails. My Dad was working on some part of the house and he sent me inside to retrieve his tool belt. The tool belt was in the room that was to become the study, but since we didn't need the space for any particular purpose it became a storage area for the construction materials. All the boxes, boards and other spare parts were strung about discordantly in there. There was only one working light bulb. It was dark and there were many odd shadows and shapes because of the lay out. So my Dad sent me here to get his tool belt and time passes and time passes and eventually Mom comes around to see what's been keeping me. She's worried that maybe I got trapped under something that fell, and when she sees me standing outside the room just kinda looking in she's a little upset.
"Krister," she says, "What are you doing? Your father sent you in to get his tool belt."
"I can't go in there," says I, "That's the scary room."

Then Mom probably chuckled and made me feel better and got the belt herself.