First,

Trent Reznor. That link is for Justin and Eric. White flag here, guys.

On another note, I've not blogged lately because I've found myself doing other projects. I've devoted a good chunk of time to my FlickR account, where I try to put up as many photos as possible. But I can't seem to find the time to come to Facebook, MySpace, FlickR, Fark, Digg and StumbleUpon all day every day. I mean, I don't want to spend EVERY moment in front of my computer. Sure I spend a lot of them there, but I do like doing *other* things.

On an unrelated note, since I employed a "basket" system in my room for my essential things, I find I lose my wallet and keys less. Funny story about my keys follows:

Several weeks back, I had come back to my room from work, and I went around the floor distributing cookie cake my mom had made.

I was later focusing on doing something at my computer, though I can't really remember what. JB had called and was waiting at the 4th Street door, waiting for me to come down and let her in. I can't leave the floor without needing my keys to get back in, so I search for them quickly, unavailable to find them.

Finally, frustrated, I quickly ask my rommie, Pat, if I can use his keys to let her in. He obliges, and I return quickly. Some minutes later, I return to looking for my keys. My roomie has a saying. "Mitch, smart though you may be, organized you are not." So I'm tearing up my room, looking for them. No luck. Under the bed? In my laundry basket? On top of the TV? No.

I know for a FACT that I had them earlier that day, as I had used them to get on the floor. I didn't go anywhere, so they were in my room, or, at the very least, on the floor.

After several more frantic minutes of searching, Pat, who is helping me look by this point, suggests that I retrace my steps. In a half-huff, I retreat to the bathroom. On my way back, I stop at Alex and Drunkie's room-- neither of them had seen my keys. So, in another effort, I went to my RA, Steve's room, and asked, "Steve, did anyone by chance turn in my keys?"

"Yes, sir." he replied, pulling a set of keys by the lanyard (my keys) from his desk, remarking that someone had seen them outside his door, and had turned them in.

I went back to my room to hang my head in shame in JB and Pat's presence, as I had clearly not been keeping track of them

Pat looked at me as I entered the room, knowing I had retraced my steps. "Did you find them," he smirked. I held them up to his face, and he remarked, "Oh, these are the keys I found earlier."

Let me say that once more: "Oh, these are the keys I found earlier."

Pat had apparently come across my keys in the hallway, and had turned them in to Steve. Pat helped me tear the room apart for no less than 20 minutes looking for the keys, not ONCE thinking that the keys he had found earlier might be mine.

His reasoning? That he had given little to no thought to turning in the keys to Steve, and therefore couldn't be expected to remember that he had done so when faced with a set of lost keys.

How often do you find a set of keys? Really?