Remember my cake phase?

Right now, I�m deeply ensconced in a pie phase. I can�t help it. My local grocer keeps putting Dutch apple pie on sale, and I shamelessly lack the wherewithal to resist the lure of the abundance of cheap, tasty pie.

Pulling a freshly made apple pie out of the oven is one of life�s finer pleasures. Filling your apartment with apple pie smell is heavenly. Fine tuning the baking time so that the crust is cooked just enough, for that perfect combination of soft doughy goodness and tart apply appleness...

I could go on. Believe me, I could go on.

I like pie.

Man, remember last month where I barely updated at all? I must be much happier now, as I have noticed that I tend to not update when I�m down in the proverbial dumps. Apparently, all I needed to pep me up was a big ol� glass of You�ve Been Fired Juice.

ITEM! The most interesting thing I�ve done this week was not shave. I speak of my face. This should be a fair illustration of just how fascinating my week has been.

It�s starting to itch, so I�m afraid that shaving is scheduled for later today. The plan, though, is to shave in stages, so that I may experience different configurations of facial hair. First, I�ll shave the underside and leave the rest, so I can get the Bill as Lutheran Pastor mojo working for me. Next, I�ll shave all but the mustache and chin area. I know there�s probably a name for that, but I can�t remember what it is. I will call it the Extreme Bill look, though. This is the Bill that mountain bikes, punches people, and has sex with sorority girls he picks up in sports bars, a Bill that does not exist in our world.

Then comes the Big Decision: At this point, I must choose one next step or the other. Do I shave the chin, and meet Mustachioed Bill? Or do I shave the �stache, and experience Soul Patch Bill?

You can see the dilemma I�m in.

Ultimately, I know which choice I will make. I must go the direction of the greasy teen. I must take the path of The Cop.

The lure of Mustache Bill is far too powerful.

Then, after that, just for the shortest moment: Hitler Bill.

Then I�ll be done.

Last night, the roommate came home from his company Christmas party. He was stinking drunk, and apparently, when he is in such a state he finds it amusing to throw his jacket over people�s faces as they innocently try to enjoy a movie. Also, the entire seam of his left pant leg had ripped, exposing much more of him than I would have liked to have seen.

I was not surprised.

Last note: Tonight, Edie and I barbecue. This is because she sat down some time last week and read FadeIn all the way through. You see, I have decided that I will grill for whomever makes it their business to read every entry. That�s right: You read every entry, get yourself over here, and I shall prepare for you a feast.

There will be pie.