Ron Swanson is my spirit animal. (this has nothing to do with Ron Swanson)
Today is a Friday… and, seeing that it is a Friday I’m obviously going to stay home and read like everyone else in the world. Hah. Well, actually I just realized that this is a Thursday. I was wondering why I wasn’t doing anything fun and normal. Anyway, my weekend starts on Thursday since I don’t have any classes on Friday, and tonight I was purposefully carving out some time to read a book. I wasn’t sure which book, but considering that I was yawning (does typing that ever make you yawn….?) prolifically by 9:00, I certainly wasn’t going to plow through another chapter of The Origin of Species, which is the book I’m reading at the moment. By 11:00 I was done watching TV and randomly clicking on useless pages on the internet, and so I got ready for bed and emerged from a bath ready to read a Richard Matheson book I’d found on my shelf. I picked up the book, got distracted by the fact that it was raining, and began to form a poem in my head. The poem was obscenely lame and needed to be purged from my system ASAP, and so I went to get my computer to save my poor, whimpering, note-ridden hand. I fished my laptop out from the couch cushions in the pool house, where it’d been shoved from the armrest by a careless soul, and typed out the (still lame) poem. While writing this poem, I had the desire to listen to sludge metal, and so I went on youtube and happened upon Crowbar. I then squealed (not really though… more like a nod acknowledging a coincidence) with delight when I realized that I was wearing a Crowbar shirt. That had nothing to do with the point of the story (and there is actually a point). So anyway, I realized that I hadn’t barraded one of my pseudo-“metal” loving (screamo… he likes… screamo…) friends with music in a few days. I quickly spammed his Faceook wall with videos, then was about to exit out when I saw another friend had linked her blog. Seeing as her posts are always clever and saccharine in a total good way that I can’t relate to but like, I clicked on it. Then I read through her new blog posts etc.ect.etc., then started clicking arbitrarily on some of our mutual friends’ blogs that she had linked on there. Eventually I started getting to random strangers blogs, at which point I was so absorbed in my voyeurism that I hadn’t even realized I’d just spent a half hour looking at pictures of someone else’s kids and quick convenient crock pot meals and homemade quilts and impeccably groomed cats (I had, unknowingly, entered into the domestic district). So then I needed to go balance this admirable –but looming and slightly scary at my age-- facet of society by looking at images of people like me. I went on people of walmart to mend my torn self-esteem from the realization of my lack of domestic prowess. Because at least I would nevvvvvvvvvvvvver wear clothing like that to Wal-Mart (because I don’t even shop at Wal-mart, for fear of being put on that website) And then I ended up going back to Word because I needed to delete my super lame poem and then I decided that I was too hyper to read and so I wrote this blog (dare I call it that?) full of run-on sentences and rubbish that no one cares about. And no, there is no point to this.
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