I know it doesn't feel any different for you, but I'm writing from my Mac. Having the internet this close to my bed and to the bathroom is mindblowing. If I had a refrigerator in here, I'd never have a reason to leave my bedroom. And on top of that, I actually feel like I have my own computer now; since it's connected to the internet, I can put all the crap I want on it (so far just Firefox, Cyberduck, and TacoEdit), and I can haphazardly strew files across the desktop. I can even have file names like "SEX," "PORN," or "ASS," just for the hell of it.

It's amazing how different a computer feels when you aren't sharing it with your parents. In addition to the merriment of having my own computer, I will never be asked to get up, will never be bothered by the blaring TV. Plus I'm awestruck by the Mac world -- the "whisper" voice that reads the time out to me every hour, the fact that I can set my IMs to be read by Daft Punk-esque voices, the pretty blues and muted greys and smooth anti-alias font faces. My AppleLust overwhelms me.

If you're already tired of hearing about it, I suggest you don't come back for a while. I have no intention of stopping anytime soon.

Tonight: Hooters with Mark and Carolyn. It's Mark's seventeenth, and we'll get all the free cake out of those big-breasted women that we can. None of us have been before. Happy seventeenth, my dear boy -- we all love you to pieces.