Dear dear readers,
I always wondered what it would be like to call my subject "dear" in the salutation portion of a letter. I don't know, it was a let down if I can be honest, but that's what this little journey will be predicated on. I don't have fancy tools like "topics" and "references" and for the most part I won't be telling you anything you don't already know. YOU'RE A MORON. See what I did there? I'm just going to ramble mostly and leave it up to you to find the merit in it.
This blog is about taking risks and not being afraid to shit in the sink sometimes. I haven't learned much in my time being alive but I know that there's a lot of really super cool things below the surface of this planet and I hope to dig a little deeper like a first time Viagra user.
You're probably not very funny and I'm not going to hold that against you, but believe there are lots of jokes in my blog that you just don't get. Trust me they are very funny and when you show this to your art major friend who always seems to be wearing a scarf, he will surely explain everything you've missed. He'll also continue to be a massively pretentious waste of a 5 o'clock shadow clinging to a degree that only holds weight in the realm of college life and has absolutely no bearing on the outside world that us non-scarf tying individuals live in.
I try to avoid these people at all costs. I would rather be gangbanged by a group of rabid Jehovah's Witnesses than have to sit for 5 minutes and try to carry on a conversation with one of these people. However, when I do find myself trapped in an encounter with a pretentious liberal arts student, I'll rarely be listening to them. More often than not, I catch myself examining what I predict to be his inner monologue. I'm not a great guesser, but I think it may be something like this...
"Jeepers, this guy is very very interested in what I have to say. And who wouldn't be? Nietzsche is a fucking rock star. Yikes, I just keep getting better and better at regurgitating philosophical statements each time I do it. Damn, even though it is summer and it's so hot that my face is literally melting off my skull, I'm so psyched that I wore my scarf and these extra thick tweed trousers. Look at him...he keeps looking away because his soul cannot fully process the sheer fire in my eyes. I'm so deep, I'm like a well filled to the brim with wit and sexy. I actually think that my passionate insights are making this guy totally question his own sexuality. I feel chemistry between us; my dick is tingling. I'm not even gay. For realsies."
It's not that I dislike these people as much as I just want to standing side kick them in the breast plate until they die. Maybe I'm being harsh. It's a pretty sure guarantee that I'm being excessive. But I once watched a guy order a coffee with FIVE different stipulations ("not too much foam, not no foam either though. You get me right?") only to clumsily trip and spill his triple venti mochawateverthefuckchino all over his new canvas shoes. So...you tell me what's excessive.
If you never ever read this blog again, please just do me this one favour. Stop being this guy's friend. Friends are the last thing he needs.But please consider being my friend and reading my blog on a regular basis and telling your friends that I'm fun and good for you, too...