Sam and I just had a funny couple of moments. He was sitting trying to get anyone in the Playstation2 online universe to play a game of NBA 2K3 with him, when I mentioned that I had looked at a listing for another apartment. Which I had debated telling him the other day, but had decided against (for much the same reason that you don't tell your girlfriend you were flirting with some chick at a show. YOU know you weren't going to go home with her, but for some reason that's never quite enough). He took it well - actually said that his feelings wouldn't be hurt if I moved into Manhattan (didn't say anything about my moving to Brooklyn. Continuing the analogy, I suppose that would be like not only going home with the other girl, but having her be ugly as well. [Of course my dear Queens - don't flatter yourself - you ain't that pretty in the mornings yourself]). Which was nice of him.

Then we started chatting about what we would do if the other moved out. Interestingly enough, we have both thought out fairly elaborate plans as to what to do with the extra space once our housemate moves. Sam's mostly involved turning my bedroom into an entertainment center (the words "plasma screen" featured quite prominently. I told him that if he wants to put it in there now, I'll go ahead and give him a free pass to watch Felicity any time he wants). Mine involved a similar plan, but had me sleeping in the living room and Sam's room set aside as a apple juice container container.

Anyway, the point is, at the end of the conversation, Sam looked at me with furrowed brow and shifty eyes, and I got this very clear image of Wile E. Coyote looking at the Road Runner and seeing a thanksgiving meal complete with trimmings. I'm not saying I fear him or anything - I'm just saying I'm going to be strongly on the lookout for packages from Acme.

|sigh|. I just finished watching the pilot of Twin Peaks. I had promised a friend that I was going to watch the season with her, so I made myself promise that I'd only watch the pilot tonight. With the entire first season just sitting there. Right on the entertainment center. Looking at me. I'm in actual physical pain from not watching it at the very moment. It starts at my stomach, and is working it's way up to my neck.

Oh it hurts. I'm going to bed. I'll leave you with a transcript of a conversation I had with my manager the other day:

Manager: So, I need you to finish this project you're working on, because we need to get working on some other things soon.

Ken: That's not a problem, I can do that.

Manager: So you went to the dentist during your lunch hour?

Ken: Yeah, I mentioned that before, right?

Manager: Yes, yes. Also - you know you are drooling on yourself, right?

Ken: looking down No. No I didn't.