I guess Leia was kinda hot

I was walking up to the apartment this morning after getting, get this, fast food. I know that's a shock. A bee flew right in my face, and as I swatted at it, I caught my glasses with one of my fingers and flung them into the grass. Without my glasses the world might as well be Picasso shapes 'cause I couldn't tell the difference. So as I'm blindly sifting through the grass and dirt, I'm reminded why I'm still single. It's partly because I'm holding a bag of fast food at 8 a.m. that's not even breakfast food. It's also partly because I'm digging around the ground for my glasses that I swatted off my face while I was shooing away a bee like a little girl.

I think I need to make some changes. Maybe get some contacts or something. Hit the gym at least once. Nobody wants to date a guy who looks like, no matter when you see him, that within the last 30 minutes he jacked off to Star Wars. And that's what I unfortunately look like. I don't even like Star Wars, but I give off that vibe. I might as well wear a shirt that says, "Action figure collectors do it in the box," or something. I don't know whether it's the I-cut-my-own-hair hairstyle or the fact that my skin looks like I live in a cave, but it's definitely something.

So I've gotta fix this. I don't want to have a bunch of cats or ferrets or some shit that I refer to as my kids when I'm older. Sittin' there watching reruns of Firefly and asking them if they want more "din-din." This is the path which I'm on now. I want like...normalness minus the kids. And that's probably not going to happen if I continue to be Fatsworth McNerdstrom.

But under all this "I want to change" stuff lies the lazy side of me, and that side is usually the one who calls the shots. So I should probably start looking into what ferrets eat.