I guess that's what happens when your lil' bro makes breakfast.

I love the saying, The road to hell is paved with good intentions. This morning I experienced an extremely tangible situation that proves its correctness, not that anything really needs to be proved as it is so obviously correct, but you know, whatever. Now, back to the story. My brother got up and decided to be a perfect angel and make breakfast for everyone. The result was oatmeal. Freaking oatmeal. I mean, if that's not hell on earth, I don't what is. And it was rolled oats, not steel-cut. It's lent, so I forced them down, but I'm not going to lie: it was painful. I really don't see why people eat it. You'd think that it would be simple, but apparently its not. Like, I don't know what's so hard about grasping the concept that oatmeal is, a) horse food and b) not people food. Actually, this has given me an amazing idea. I could pay my brother to smuggle every last oat out of the house and feed the feed (the appropriate name, fyi; it doesn't deserve the title of 'meal') to his horses. Well, its an idea. We'll see.

Three exciting things have happened to me since we talked last. The first has to do with eating. Guys, I had Brussels sprouts for the first time ever! Believe it or not, I had never had them before Sunday. I think that was due both to the fact that my parents don't like them and that they kind of have this, shall we say, unfavorable reputation. They had always been this unimaginable evil; I knew they existed, but I had never experienced them, they were to me a mysterious, undefined aura of darkness and malevolence. And then I tasted them. And, as far as greens go, they weren't all that bad. I even liked them. Somewhat. Anyway. It was kind of cool because Brussels sprouts are more central than some of the characters in the play that I'm acting in, so I was curious as to what they actually taste like. 

Okay, the second event is actually kind of embarrassing. I really don't like moths. Especially moths that are inside. They just are--unnerving. And you can't just kill them because they get really big. Two nights ago my 23 year old sister came up to my room, about an hour after we (my brothers and I) went to bed. I was just about asleep, you know that semi-conscious sate, and she comes barging in raising hell about this moth "that's as big as a bat" etc. Because I was only partially awake, (at least that's my excuse) the picture of the moth grew to that of a super-terrestrially sized moth, and I genuinely did not want to meet it in one on one combat  because, with something of that size it would most probably have been to the death. I gallantly told my sister to lock the moth-bat in the bathroom and then I'd take care of it in the morning. She wouldn't stand for it. Thankfully, my little brother (the horses one) is the "tough guy macho man" of the family and he got up and took care of it. If he hadn't overcome his laziness, my guilt would have overcome my fear, so its a good thing he got up because I really didn't want to face that moth. 

And I saved the best for last. This morning a received a $15,000 sponsorship from rightbacksports.com. I guess now I don't have to get a summer job. Isn't life awesome?....If you're me hehehehe.

Well, *careless, sophisticated yawn* I need to toddle off to the bank and deposit some green stuff.

TTFN

-Thomas, who just told a terrible lie and who is probably going to have to get a summer job. :( But he did just get invited to another HP training camp next month, so that's cool....but admittedly not quite as cool as $15,000