I'm still waiting on all my CD's and other expensive little toys to come to me. I've tided myself over by borrowing a first-person shooter called Deus Ex. Not my type of game, usually, but there's something wonderfully refreshing about snipping terrorists from a few hundred yards and occasionally opening up on a battlion using a BFG with maximum prejudice; hey, it beats therapy.

In terms of updates: the girl I was interested in, Karen, has apparently been taken by someone closer to her age. I keep forgetting, what with having a full beard and moustache, that my appearance is not sheik or normal. And it's funny: a flowing moustache in Germania and even Francia around the 9th-13th centuries was a potent secondary sex characteristic. Now it seems to guarantee abstinence. There's something about looking 14 and being in your 20's that is appealing to this generation. Di Caprio syndrome, I suspect.

Hold on, topic shift.

I always find it weird when I start getting close to someone on the net. There's something to be said for physicality, but just the thoughts are enough for me, y'know? Being the lost member of the Usual Suspects that some have claimed me to be, there ain't much attention around here to get.

In any case, I've been getting to know someone who's actually pretty cool. Vervishly blithe, intelligent, and flirtacious without being at all serious. She also likes to write. These are details that don't matter a damn to you, I know, but I figure with all my bitching about not identifying with anyone I might as well try to put a foot in my mouth.

Oh, and the guy on the pringles can was a great catharsis.

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