Wednesday, March 30, 2011
I'm Not Moving Until I Write Something!
With that title, it's tempting to just say, "There! I wrote something. Good-bye." But I'm too stubborn to give in that easily. So what if I don't have any ideas? Who cares if my brain is devoid of any creativity? Well, *I* care, but who cares what I care about? Are these rhetorical questions? What the hell is a "rhetorical question," anyway? Who am I? What am I doing in the middle of a baseball diamond at midnight on the moon? I can't even play foosball! Why can't I be young again, only not like I was when I *was* young, but more like someone who's really pretty and popular? Would I have been popular, if I had been pretty? Would I have been pretty, if I had been popular? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, after all. So...if Mike's eye had had more beauty in it, would he have thought I was pretty? Would he have been beholden to me? If you are still reading this, do you feel like you have something in your eye? Don't rub it! That'll just make it worse! Try rinsing it with some Midol. I'm getting cramps in my fingers, from typing so fast. How many fingers does it take to cross the road? To get to the other side, Silly! When is a riddle not a riddle? When it's a rhetorical question! Whillikers! Am I done now?