This Is A Post!
I'm sorry, LiveJournal. I'm just not all that interesting these days.
Oh, here I am, wishing I had things to discuss. And I guess I could scan the news and make a kind of half-hearted effort to keep you from unfriending me in droves. For example, I could talk about how totally lame it is that Prince Fancypants can't even kiss Princess Girl-I-Expect-To-Eat-Someday* at the end of that TV show they're broadcasting next whatever day of the week it is. Or I could talk about how Sarah Jane Smith died last Tuesday and nobody in the goddamn world seemed to notice except for Stephen Moffat. Or, if all of a sudden my testicles swelled to 200% of their current size, I could even go outside of news from a country I've never even been to and start beefing on the Republicans eating babies on C-SPAN while the Democrats let snowmen vote or whatever the fuck else is happening in the world.
But I won't do any of that. Because I've pretty much said everything I have to say about everything already, even if it was in the form of a sarcastic dismissal.
And here's the thing: I don't even feel that guilty. The way I see it, this is at least 50% your fault, world, for not pissing me off enough lately to inspire me to write anything substantial.
So, in the place of anything worthwhile, I will instead offer you a funny phrase I've been working on for the last two and a half weeks:
"Sexy Teacup Versus Nervous Pyramid."
...I dunno', I just sort of feel like that should be the name of an album.
*- It's not as creepy as it sounds. It's just that I'm 180% certain that all the world's governments are going to collapse soon, and we as a species will be forced to turn on one another for food. And when that happens, I just have this weird feeling that I'm going to have to track down Kate Middleton and eat her. ...what? That's not so weird, right?
Oh, here I am, wishing I had things to discuss. And I guess I could scan the news and make a kind of half-hearted effort to keep you from unfriending me in droves. For example, I could talk about how totally lame it is that Prince Fancypants can't even kiss Princess Girl-I-Expect-To-Eat-Someday* at the end of that TV show they're broadcasting next whatever day of the week it is. Or I could talk about how Sarah Jane Smith died last Tuesday and nobody in the goddamn world seemed to notice except for Stephen Moffat. Or, if all of a sudden my testicles swelled to 200% of their current size, I could even go outside of news from a country I've never even been to and start beefing on the Republicans eating babies on C-SPAN while the Democrats let snowmen vote or whatever the fuck else is happening in the world.
But I won't do any of that. Because I've pretty much said everything I have to say about everything already, even if it was in the form of a sarcastic dismissal.
And here's the thing: I don't even feel that guilty. The way I see it, this is at least 50% your fault, world, for not pissing me off enough lately to inspire me to write anything substantial.
So, in the place of anything worthwhile, I will instead offer you a funny phrase I've been working on for the last two and a half weeks:
"Sexy Teacup Versus Nervous Pyramid."
...I dunno', I just sort of feel like that should be the name of an album.
*- It's not as creepy as it sounds. It's just that I'm 180% certain that all the world's governments are going to collapse soon, and we as a species will be forced to turn on one another for food. And when that happens, I just have this weird feeling that I'm going to have to track down Kate Middleton and eat her. ...what? That's not so weird, right?