I haven't posted in so long that the blogger interface looks like some sort of futuristic gaming device. AM I Q-BERT?
The short answer is no. Actually, the long answer is no also. Don't be an idiot.
So I sit here watching the United States soccer team beat up (slowly) on Antigua and Barbuda and I can't help but wonder if Barbuda is a made up place. I mean, I'm in my goddamn thirties and if I haven't heard of Barbuda by now I'm guessing it's bullshit.
Or horseshit.
Some type of shit.
And I'm typing my first post in a while, fueled by wine and boredom, but I don't really have anything to say. I just feel like I should be writing. I've occasionally felt this way but recently it's been tugging at me consistently, making me feel as if I'm missing some important opportunity.
What's the opportunity, you ask?
I don't know.
Maybe it's simply the chance to write BOOBIES in all caps.
Maybe it's more. I don't know.
All I can say is that it does feel good to jump on the old porn box and write a little something. Even if BOOBIES isn't the BOOBIES, or BOOBIES won't BOOBIES.
You know, BOOBIES.
That is all.
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