BEGIN READING BELOW >>>>
Ok so let's do this;
I would tell you my self-summary in a very cliche kind of way, but I guess that's just not for me so I figured the best way to describe me is to run you through a typical day. Not typical come to think of it, but lets say a Saturday by myself right? Ready?
No, I mean....are you really ready? Ok cool...
When I wake up, I usually do a 5 mile run, sing 'good morning' to all of the prettier bird species (hate sparrows though), then wake up and realize it was only a dream...
The next step towards a successful morning is finding matching socks. It sucks, (tiny little apology for the cheesy word joke would suit quite nicely here so just pretend I do).
Where was I, oh socks. So I finally found 'em and put them on. I prefer red ones but only have blacks....oh well..those will do fine I guess.
After a freezing cold shower and an even colder coffee I often find myself craving some food. Preferably a little something I like to call the 'Quadruple B Warriors Breakfast': Bread. Butter. Beef salami. Breakfast.
Ok so what shall we do now? How about a nice day on a sunny terrace in Utrecht's center. Sounds good doesn't it? Hop on my bright blue bike, find the nearest book store and go for a magazine. My eyes glaze through the covers of all kinds of porn magazines until I realize that's just not me. It would be quite upsetting if the guy on the cover was me, right? I pick a nice human interest magazine and continue my journey. (yes I did pay, don't worry)
Ahh, the sun. The heat. The people. Lets pretend I did a six hour shower earlier so it's about 16:00h right now. I don't want to abuse too many of your pixels for now, plenty of time for that later on.
< SIDE NOTE >
Are you still here? Ok nice. I want you to grab the smallest random item in your reach and place it on top of your head right now. What is it? A rat? A pen? An orange peel?
Back to the terrace. I'd like a beer please. What kind sir? The hottest beer you can poor me, my good man.
It's good. So good actually, that I almost finished it.
The magazine was a bit meh...but I just refused to go all crazy and cheap on the Hutslers and what not. I guess I am what you call the romantic type.
--- Still balancing that thing on your head? Proud of you. ---
Time to pay the poor man. I'm wearing my sunglasses so now would be a good time for a profile pic I guess?
Riding my bike home, feeling the wind run through some blond hairs, oh sh*t I'm going all cheesy now. I'll stop.
Home. Time to cook. The sharpest knife in the drawer finds its way to my hand....no...I messed up, it's the other way around.
The onion I'm about to chop is making me cry because just when I was about to stick the knife in it, it made an offending joke involving my mother. The food tastes good. I'm an amateur chef so yeah, I guess it would.
Time for some music and/or TV. No, you know what? I'm gonna walk my pet goldfish Edward around the block first. Edward even break-dances on the pavement for a brief moment so I guess he loves being taken for a walk. Too bad the leash runs of his slippery scales but hey, there are worse things to worry about right?
This last paragraph is supposed to underline my preference for outdoor activities.
Time for bed. Time for dreams. Dreams of a nice life and a sunny future involving all kinds of happy moments, late night discussions, sunsets, dirty dishes, incorrectly placed toilet-paper rolls and love.