Interactive Fort Collins photo tour, pt. 1

Well, I've been home for 24 hours, and it feels distinctly un-weird. It's a hundred degrees out at peak hours, and yet I sweat minimally; My mom bought me a shirt today; and my house is air conditioned, and has wireless. Bam. I was a lot more uncomfortable the last time I was home. The conflict between my Carleton home and my home home was much more apparent before. At this point, I've accepted the fact that home home will always be a home to me, even if I have other, homier homes elsewhere. That said, I would have hated to spend the entire summer here.

Steve and I went for a drive last night, and we're still on the same wavelength. We continue to get a kick out of talking about the goings on with the Old Guard, some of whom, I now recognize, are huge tools (note: they're still great, or at least still my friends).

Anyway, this is my house:

Here's the backyard (it was a weed patch until a year ago. My parents waited until I left to make it hospitable). Thats my mom, reading or something, and my dog, Gracie (more on her later).
Here's the kitchen. It's glorious. One of my favorite rooms in the house. There's my dad. He used to make me french toast for breakfast while I sat at the table [pictured, left] and watched Recess. Or the Busy World of Richard Scary. My brother loved that show. Oh yeah, my brother has a girlfriend now (his first). I just met her; she's cute and small, like him. He hasn't kissed her yet, though. Props, J, but you gotta hit that.
This is the basement where my friends and I got caught drinking when we were seventeen. Or maybe some of us were sixteen. Either way, it was bogus. Great basement, though.
These next two are of the time-warp that is my room. The walls have not changed since I was sixteen. Hendrix poster: check. Shitty hubcap I found on the side of the road: check. Badass black knight standing on a heap of skulls: check.
I pulled that busty Miller Lite babe from the pages of the 2002 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. God, I was cool (note the SIGNED Dashboard poster. Fuck yeah).My mom is, as we speak, giving me a foot massage, which, I mean, who gives foot massages? I'm waiting at least five years before my next visit. Maybe she'll buy me a car, or something.

That's all for now, I think, though I'm not sure what I'll do now. Life without work is a little slow, especially at home. Oh, never mind, it's time to eat.