Welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends, we’re so glad you could attend, come inside! Come inside! Is … is that right? Well, it’s actually Emerson Lake & Palmer, but because this is the digital age I can take whatever I want and make it my own and I don’t have to credit anybody or pay a thing! Take that, stupid record companies! (Disclaimer: I’s just quotin’, yo.) (P.S., now they can’t touch me! I win!)

Anyway, it’s me again, Patrick’s roooommmmate. Not Patrick. Maybe you didn’t notice the defaced header image up there. I’m taking over for the time being. Hopefully without his knowledge still. I’m also cleaning the apartment without his knowledge, and probably without his consent, too. It’s amazing how much there is to do. There’s no way I’m living like this when I move out. Unfortunately, I’m not exactly a clean freak either, so am I to blame for letting him get away with it? Hmm, conundrum.

I was seriously considering cleaning up his room, too, just to mess with his head, or do something like rearrange it, like I like to do with my own room every now and then. But then, like, the day after he left I kept hearing somebody rummaging around in his room, and it was totally messing with my head because he was supposed to be gone, right? Turns out a raccoon has currently taken up residence in his room. He wears a bowler hat, and talks with an Indian accent, and his name is Francesco. I’m letting him stay for the time being, but he really has to be gone the day before Pat gets home. So far, though, Frankie’s made some nice changes of his own, but the room is still generally a mess, so nothing has changed, I guess.

He also hates being called Frankie. And I’m not trying to be deliberate about it, but it slips out sometimes. Sorry, raccoon dude.

Before I forget again, I have to thank my good friend Colin for turning me on to ELP. It’s just one of those things, y’know? I never really heard of them up to that point, and they’re just amazing. Thank you, Colin!

Grand Sincerities,
–me.

Hello, folks! This is not the entity known as Patrick D Ryall, oh no. This is his roommate, Marq, stepping in to wreak some havoc while he is away. I can tell you right now that this is not going to end well. All bets can be placed at our betting booth.

I realize that I may have even less to say than our lovely travelling-nation-man, but I’m trying to remedy that. Of course, I’m doing stupid stuff with my website(s) at the moment, not something that allows me to write or anything. I haven’t done the weblog thing for a good couple of years now (as long as I’ve lived with Pat now; is that a coincidence or what?). Maybe someday his constant nattering about C2! will get me to do something with that, even. But bringing it up here will only give him more fodder to shoot at me when he gets home, so I will mention it no more.

I totally thought of something even more banal to bring up when I took over, something that happened or something I looked at when I was out at Shoppers earlier, something on the current level of Pat’s “blogging”, but now I can’t remember what it was. At all. That was pretty banal. It’s so staying.

It occurs to me that once upon a time when I did the weblog thing for real, years and years ago, and I went away for the weekend, I let Pat loose on it and he just wouldn’t shut up. Seriously. Now the tables have turned! Mwah! Hah! Hah!

Love and Peaches,
–me.