You Make Me Wanna Be A Better Blogger (OR A Random Collection of Ridiculous Thoughts)

Heeeey, guys. So, I feel as if I should apologize for my last post. Did it feel kinda crazy and manic to you, or was that just me? I guess it's one of those "it seemed funny at the time" things that now just feels a little embarrassing. Story of my life. Anywhoo, it got mixed reviews. And I'm just going to assume that my friends who consistently tell me how awesome I am are filthy, filthy liars (and I love them for that), and promise the rest of you "honest people" (read: assholes who obviously didn't get the references) that I'll never do it again (Mommy didn't mean to scare you, she's very, very sorry. Shhhh).

Wow, did that feel dirty.

Moving on. Does anyone else keep a notebook on the bedside table so they can write down ideas and dreams in the middle of the night? No? Just me, then. Alright, well I thought it would be a good idea, and it did start out that way, at first (except for, no it didn't, ever). The notebook by my bed looks outwardly like a diary which one might purchase as a gift for a 13 year old girl (it's purple and shiny and you can just stop judging me right now, KTHANKS). However. It contains all of the troubled, half-cocked, nonsensical ramblings of my twisted soul, none of which should ever be made into a Lifetime movie. Furthermore, it is completely incoherent, as it consists mainly of bullet points and things in quotation marks that really have no reason to be in quotation marks. Evidently, half-asleep me just assumes that awake me will somehow be able to remember what I meant to convey when I wrote down "Terrorism Parenting: O-Mama Bin Laden", or why I included "Susan Boyle" and "I wish dogs were ticklish" in a bulleted list entitled Reasons Why I'm Single (I'm really not sure how much of an impact Susan Boyle could possibly have had on my love life, but I'll be damned if I'm going to shoulder all of the blame on that one, a-thank you very much, SUSIE).

SO, the general consensus right now is that I'm either a genius or an idiot, with most everyone who is not me leaning towards the latter. Also, in the grand tradition of comparing myself with random elderly gentlemen in films, today I'm feeling a bit like Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets. Picture me avoiding cracks in the sidewalk and affectionately calling Grey Kinnear a fairy because I don't know how social interaction works. Or because I stopped caring about anything back in the mid-60s and you can all eat my shorts because I'm Jack "Manboobs" Nicholson and I do as I please, accepted societal norms be damned.

Wow, this post just has something for everyone, I think. I mean, I've hit my requisite benchmarks: Insanity, Terrorism, Adolescent girls as pertains to Lifetime movies, Susan Boyle, AND homophobic slurs a la Jack "I Wear My Sunglasses At Night" Nicholson. ForTheWin, I'll throw in how much I hate TJ Quill's and how by the age of 24 all men should know that you have to ask a girl out at least 3 days in advance and that, unless someone dies or you are in fact the President of these here United States, there is no legitimate reason to cancel on someone last minute. Seriously, guys, behave yourselves. Also, Science.

Apologies. Apologies all around...