Explaining Important Things

I haven't been writing because stress has paralyzed my desire to give birth to creative expressivenationness. To wind down at the end of the day, I watch a lot of t.v. in my brand new fifty thousand dollar monster SUV. Lying also helps me cope with stress. I'm a liar who got her teeth cleaned at the new dentist today. He's not new but he's new to me. And even if he were new, he couldn't be a whole new because that's just something stupider people say. Stupider people can say funner and still be correct. They have more fun than people like me. I'm going to go and draw black SUVs with some crayons or something. Oh shit. I can't. My creativitizationality is paralyzed.

Completely Pointless Point

By the way, I hate unwitty oxymorons, but this is an unwitty post, so maybe it's appropriate. Gee, how excitingly ironic. And how blandly sarcastic. Anyway...

When I was about 12 years old, I joined some extended family on a walk down Hollywood Boulevard. One of the kids begged his mother to get him a souvenir. He was obviously illiterate at the time, because he was whining over a cheap t-shirt that read Eat Shit and Die. Well, my dog ate shit once and was promptly reprimanded. A few months later she found more shit to eat and ate shit again, but she didn't die. Eat shit and die...what a useless threat. It's not even true.

In the corner of mind my is you.

You are waving to me, and your eyes, bright. I get closer, anticipating our exchange. I stand before you now, and you say, "Crap!!! I found the pack of socks I bought from Kmart three years ago!" You hug your six pairs of bright whites, closing your eyes for added drama. I stumble back, shocked, saddened. In a fog of rage, I attack you with bug spray. You shrivel up but, out of courtesy, crawl into the toilet bowl where you'll conveniently be flushed away, and die. I steal your socks and put them back in the corner of my mind. Don't be going though my shit like that again.

It's after lunch. You're at work.

And you're reading this goddamn blog like you ain't got nothin' better to do. Like they pay you to sit on your ass and read this shit like you ain't gotta earn your shit. Fuck you. You are killing America. Yet, you wholeheartedly believe in the American Dream. And you're not going to quit your job just because you're going to buy a house one day. You're going to keep working, and you're going to read blogs and eat Fritos while on the clock. By the way, your boss is standing right behind you with a butcher knife, and he's going to hack up your PC and make you alphabetize some files from 1987. You asked for it.

Hello? Would you like to come?

Hey...um...I'm not good at leaving voice messages, but I'm just calling to tell you about my party this Thursday. A few of us are going to hang out. Don't worry about what to wear. Just wear whatever...jeans...I don't care. My friends are cool. I think you'll like them. Just...whatever you feel like...if you're busy, that's cool. If you can make it, please call me so that I know how much to get at the grocery store. Um...this message is getting kind of long...sorry. Um...what else, what else...did I mention it's an OVALTINE PARTY?