As far as the first photo goes, it basically defines my morning. I had practice early morning til 1PM and went straight home. I refused various offers to chill and hang out because of my father. I was afraid that he would scold me for going out, like he had already done a few nights ago. As I got home, I came to discover that my parents were sleeping. This automatically leaves me with nothing to do. They want me to stay home, yet when I do, I just sit here and watch TV. It's pointless. So, as I recall, I laid on the couch for a good while, with Obama on my stomach. He smells.
Tonight's only main event was going to the airport with my father to pick up my grandparents. As much as I would have rathered to stay home, he forced me to come with. It was kind of interesting. As we waited at the gate, he shared scar stories from all over his body, earned from an adventurous youth. The only stories I could contribute to the conversation were recent sabre bruises: a blood blister on my right thumb, a bruise on my pinky, and a few more scattered bruises.
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