My butt hurts. I asked earlier what I should write about, and someone responded, "ASS". I assume he meant the pursuit of women, and said so in an oddly bro-like manner. Someone then responded "don't talk about man ass". Well, I'm talking about man ass, and right now, mine hurts. It's because I'm a bum, and I spent most of the day sitting on mine. By the way, I don't think I've called it a "bum" since I was five.
Enjoying this so far?
Tonight....er...this morning....it was 12:15 a.m., which is the 12:15 that comes directly after "tonight", so I'm saying "tonight". TONIGHT, I went to the cafe and saw somebody in a Mt. Lebanon tennis shirt. How'd I notice her shirt, which was covered up partially by a hoodie? I was looking at her boobs. Sorry. I'm a nice guy, but I'm still a guy. I think any time a guy sees a girl for the first time, regardless of situation, he looks at her boobs.
Regardless, I noticed the Mt Lebo shirt, and spent almost the whole meal thinking about whether or not I should be like "heyyyyy, I went to USC". Would she react positively, or would she respond to my comments with a blast of pepper spray or flat out refusal to converse? I learned my lesson a long time ago, when during a class Freshman year, I spied a kid in a Lebo lacrosse shirt. When I asked if he was from there, he reacted like I was an alien and said "no, I just got this from some kid". Pointless story, but now you know.
I'm currently listening to Soundgarden, which is odd for me. I like them, but not really enough to listen to them as more than background noise. Today, I've listened to a bunch of stand up, Tool, the Ramones, Soundgarden, and Megadeth. If I threw in Weezer or Tenacious D, I'd truly be all over the map. Not a bad day though, musically.
I just mentioned that I need to think of goofy thoughts to write about. Apparently, if you look for "goofy things" on google, this comes up:
Good dog.
I wanted to play my guitar today, but I was too lazy to tune it. That's probably the pinnacle of laziness. All it would have required was for me to sit with it in my lap, reach up, and turn the tuning pegs. I was too lazy for that. It's a wonder I got out of bed. Come to think of it, I shoulda just laid there in my boxers and paid friends to come in and feed me. I have no money, though.
Please send me money. I'm a really nice fellow.
Speaking of money, this website allows you to sign up to put ads on here and earn money. Good idea, right? As I said earlier on Twitter, I'm a whore, and am not such an activist that I'm morally opposed to using this space for ads. Check it out, I'll prove it:
Looks totally legit.
Anyways, I was signing up to continue the spread of corporate consumerism in the name of the almighty dollar, when it asked me to check off a box saying I wouldn't be using these ads on a page that would be distributing copyrighted material. Given that everything I've posted, including a totally "borrowed" image from seekingarrangement.com, is most likely copyrighted, unless I created it on Microsoft Paint, I couldn't check the box, and will not be making a dime.
Expect this page to be completely eliminated by the morning because I'm giving seekingarrangement.com a bit of free advertisement.
