Quarter-life crisis

Just in case any of you were sitting at home wringing your sweaty little hands with worry about my cat, you can relax now. She's going to make it; miraculously, she has no broken bones but something like the equivalent of being severely beaten. It just hurts. Our course of action now is to monitor her bladder functions for a week and administer oral pain medication once every 24 hours, which will be about as enjoyable and intelligent as strapping bleeding raw meat to my naked body and swimming the Florida peninsula.

Lately I have been dabbling in some new pursuits, since tomorrow I turn Old. Now that my brother's home from school for the summer, I have been exposed to some new pastimes, which I have been trying on for size. Among them:
-Microwaving everything that can be found in the freezer, EVERYTHING, and consuming while swigging out of a 2-liter bottle of Coke. At 3 in the morning.
-Watching all VH1 Classic specials on Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, and Metallica. Also getting very very excited when I learn that Dee Snider is the presenter of the 101 Most Metal Moments of all time.
-Calling Angela to ask her who's hotter, Jessica Alba or Beyonce.
-Hiding in dark doorways and jumping out and screaming at our mother when she walks by.
-Taking 45 minute showers.
-Putting mustard in people's drinks.
-Taking my guitar into the restroom with me and playing "Cemetery Gates" while I dump.

Just kidding about that last one. I don't even know how to play guitar. I also realize that I name-drop a lot around here, and normally I would have maybe included some explanations or links to the Twisted Sister homepage, for example, but ever since I've been spending a lot of time with Dylan the impulse to be helpful and mature about potential problems has been replaced by an urge to press my butt cheeks against the monitor and fart.