It's funny cooking for yourself. I have cooked, yes, but always with the limited tastes of my dad in mind. Now, I can make whatever I want, and I can experiment, because I am the only one to have to suffer through it if it doesn't turn out.

Monday, I marinated a skirt steak in sriracha, garlic, and olive oil. I then butter fried it and put it on corn tortillas with homemade guacamole and fresh spinach. Tonight I fried catfish and slapped it on some flour tortillas with a homemade corn salsa(fucking amazing corn salsa) and sweet potato home fries. Something about Texas makes me want to eat everything on tortillas.

Last time i was in Texas I lost a lot of weight. Maybe the drugs had something to do with it. Maybe the priority of cigarettes and beer over food had something to do with it. But maybe it was just the opportunity to be on my own. I was 146 lbs when I left TX in 2005. I remember the number.

Right now I'm in the high 180s. But right now I'm in Texas, I am relatively on my own. I have all the time in the world, and all I do is sets of push-ups and sit ups and prepare elaborate meals for one. I have yet to go out and run because the heat is like hell and balls. Plus, I don't wish to get a tan.

I need a GD cigarette. I sometimes punch the air. I sometimes walk in a tight circle in my room. I sometimes squeeze my head with my palms and laugh in a very insane way. I don't smoke though. And it fucking sucks.

Until the next post, go fuck yourself, you fucks.