I want chicken. I want liver. Meow mix, meow mix, please deliver.

Today I was somewhat upset with myself. I went to bed really early last night--around 10:30 PM. I was so tired, I couldn't think straight. I set my alarm for 5:30 AM (yes, I set my alarm every single day). Not only did I wake up at 5:30 AM, but I felt refreshed and mostly rested when I woke up. I lay there thinking, "I'll think about what I'm going to do today. I've got so much time--the WHOLE day ahead of me! The sun's not even up yet! I can close my eyes for another couple of minutes first..." And then it was 10:00 AM. I ended up sleeping almost 12 hours. Christ on a crutch.

It was a somewhat eventful night, though. It was a few of the "things that go bump in the night." Around 2 AM, I heard what sounded like an animal on the roof loose its footing, and then roll down, fall through the air, and hit the ground. It was a cat, because I heard it give a surprised, "MRrrrrreeerrr!!" It would have been funnier, but the crash was loud enough for me to be afraid that it had fallen through the ceiling. So I was up and around my apartment looking for any holes in the ceiling. My bedroom has an area that's open to the outside, but separated by reinforced screens. There's also an area like this in the kitchen. I was afraid that the cat had fallen through that.

And then, around 4, I heard some animal get caught on my front porch. My front porch is protected by a screen door. I have no idea how it got in there, but whatever it is sound like it was lost. I suddenly heard a bunch of thumping and banging. Perhaps there were two of them, and whatever they were (cats, rats, dogs, supernatural beasts) were fighting, and then it stopped. Goddamn it, it was right outside the front door. I was glad I locked the door (you know, in case they were supernatural beasts with the capability of opening doors).

I was excited today because I found brownies. I was told, "Ryan, there might be some frozen Digiorno pizzas in the upright freezer in your pantry." Yay! I never really looked in that freezer. Why not? It's there. I could use it. It is, after all, in my apartment. But I looked, and there's like four Digiorno pizzas. FOUR! And...what's this? Oh my...Today must be my lucky day...FREAKIN' BROWNIES STILL IN THE PAN IN A ZIPLOCK BAG!!. I yanked them out and went trallopping around. "Look," I exclaimed. "Brownies!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where'd you find that?"

"In the freezer. Why?"

"Uh...You might not want to eat that..."

"Why? Are they old? Oh wait..." I could tell from the look on her face as she quickly grabbed them and looked at them. "They're pot brownies, huh?"

"Uh...Maybe. Might want to go ahead and put these back in the fridge at the very bottom where you found them."

Now I want brownies, goddamnit. Not pot brownies. I want regular brownies! I love brownies. My stomach growls for brownies. I want to get high off the chocolatey goodness, and not anything else. Why do I want brownies so bad? I live in a goddamn chocolate factory. I can eat as much chocolate as I want. But brownies...brownies are different.

I went to the beach today. Hopuna. It was nice. Relaxing. Kind of boring. All well. Lazy Sunday.

I've reached a time in my life where chocolate doesn't have the same effect on me as it used to. I have a ten pound bar of chocolate not five feet from where I sit, and i don't know what to do with it. The idea of eating it is laughable. I don't even want it. I was going to send it to my mother, but you can buy the broken chunks of the ten pound Ghiradelli chocolate bars (just like this one) at Trader Joe's in the bins near the front. Why not send her something a bit more exotic. My bills are pretty exotic.