Good evening America! It is a glorious Sunday in beautiful Columbus, Ohio and I do not have to do dishes. Now you may ask yourself, Tyler don’t you have a dishwasher? You may ask yourself, why don’t you have to do dishes? You may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful house. You may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful wife. Those last two are directed exclusively at David Byrne, mind you. The point still stands though, I do not have to do dishes. You see, last Sunday Roger and I made a deal, if he wrote 3,500 words for DoubleBook, I would do all the dishes and, alas, he has not.
In the short term I am very happy because I think Death is currently living in the depths of our sink. The entire apartment reeks when the dishes are left undone to the point where I bought a circulating fan to try to disperse the smell on bad days. Buying an apartment with no dishwasher is a very bad idea, if you were wondering.
In the long run, though, this is bad. It means I’ll have to stay in school another week because our book remains unfinished and 100% unpublished. The thing is that I think I’m only really good at one thing and that is writing. I’m not one of those people that say I can’t live without writing/music/some other bullshit because I could. Easily. Anyone could. I mean, to think otherwise is inane. No one has ever dropped dead because their iPod battery died (my apologies if you know someone who did, that was very insensitive of me). I am, however one of those douchebags that thinks they’re the greatest living writer. Seriously, I’m fucking great. Deal with it. So being in school basically just sucks and until I write this book I can’t drop the fuck out.
On a entirely different and unabashedly nerdy note, Roger and I just beat Gears Of War 2 on Co-op. It confirmed my suspicions. I am bad at every game besides Pokemon. No lie, I’m a Poke-fucking-master.
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