It's 8:45pm,
Friday night, fun night, party after the "helluva week I've had", kinda night. I am sitting on Tony's couch watching him play Doom3. As usual I am enjoying copious amounts of bandwidth, running more applications that my meager amount of RAM (256MB) can really maintain happy thoughts with. The MPAA (boo hiss) think that they have crushed all the good BitTorrent sites so I'm doing my best to prove them wrong. Tony is muttering to himself (or to his Xbox) and when I ask him to repeat himself, he claims to have no idea he was even speaking.
It's 8:50pm.
This was not a particularly good or bad week. Although (and I am trying NOT to feel sorry for myself) the more of these "not good or bad" weeks I have, the more I think that they are in fact bad weeks for the sole fact that they are so unremarkable.
It's 8:53pm.
Tony just dispatched some very noisy demon type things to the deepest pit of hell (which appears to be the level he is on in the game). I think we might go and see a movie?
It's 8:56pm.
Tony is non-committal on the movie suggestion, but did use actual words, so that was nice.
It's 9:00pm.
Tony reminds me that he only has one Xbox controller, so my participation in the game is quite impossible. I pretend that this is a bummer, however I have no doubt that I would suck at Doom3 and send Tony into non-verbal Xbox mumbles.
Starbucks?
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