People Keep Falling Asleep in My Presence

Yeah, major ego boost. I tell you...

Thing is, my friend R has this completely fucking aggravating trick of passing out in front of me whenever we hang out. Now, normally I'd just chalk this up to being a rather annoying personal quirk, but I get the distinct impression this girl's got a thing for me.

Wonderful way to express it, darling.

One might wonder, is our Saintly friend interested in pursuing a more physically motivated association with R? One might wonder, is he even attracted to this person? Or, the casual reader may wonder, "Why does this asshole write in such stilted fashion, using relatively archaic narrative structure, which is, in itself, interspered into a more free-flowing mileu?" Then again, perhaps you're completely fucking braindead and not thinking about anything at all.

Of course, I'm probably fooling myself on the whole thing. Nobody's reading this drivel.

As that is probably the case, I'm forced to wonder why I'm writing. This blog began in August, and this is the first post I've made since then. Partially because I haven't had time, and partially because my life is so G-D-awful boring that there's no point in actually recording anything here. Especially since there's only 1 person out there who I know has ever bothered to read any of this. Actually, she's much better at this journal-style writing. Check her blog out http://www.bintsahala.blogspot.com/"here.


Seriously though, the life of a boring person is nothing to write home about. Or write on the internet about. It's not like my daily foibles and procrastinations are worthy of note or comment. It's not as though there are thousands of people out there, waiting with baited breath, on my latest post. Which leads me directly to the following:

What the hell does "baited breath" actually mean?

I have no idea. On the other hand, I know exactly what is meant by "likelihood of consumer confusion" in fourteen separate federal district courts.

Fascinating

Yet, I never wonder if I'm wasting my life and my time. I've been confident of that ever since I gave up on becoming a product designer for LEGO when I was twelve. I should have stuck with that one: I made some pretty cool shit.

So, back to R, the half-assed narcoleptic.

R has fallen asleep on me (not literally) six times out of seven. The only time she managed to remain awake was last Friday.

She calls me, bored, and wants to hang out. I was bored, too, so I was down. We went and saw the new movie "Garden State." I highly recommend this movie (and not just because I'm from Jersey...) Then we went to a local watering hole that serves some of my favorite microbrews. (Rogue and Bell's being two particualar favorites.)

But I've digressed again, haven't I? Sometimes I think about writing a book that is a total digression. You know, start off with some characters, then have one launch into a tangent that takes up four hundred pages, before coming back to the original point...

Biff: So, Muffy, what's bothering you?

Muffy: Well, Biff, I was talking to Gladys the other day...you remember her from the office Christmas party? No? Oh, she was the one who's brother's wife had that mastectomy...Gawd, what an awful thing. My mother had a mastectomy five years ago, it was terrible......

****400 pages later****

...and so, basically, I'm pissed off at Gladys because she borrowed my white out without asking."

THE END

Sure, it'd be a ridiculous book, and no one would read it. But, I tell you true, the critics would love me for doing something new and unusual, even if it tanked.

And I've run out of things to say....