Drench your hands with honey
and look up at the sky because I'm thinking of smiling
not too much, not too much
I can hear the crickets and see the fireflies
I can feel her embrace
I can smell her perfume and taste her lips
It's all okay though, I'm finally done too
The setting sun rests its head on the mountains and I can see it drifting to sleep
His mother watching from afar
Whispering her pride
And the bees just keep on stinging, dying one by one
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Insanity of a Focused Life
I'm sitting in my black leather chair at my glass desk. Typing. Just typing. Music is playing. These are songs. These songs are definitely playing. I know that because I can hear them. Let's sing along, shall we? These songs aren't good enough to sing along to. I will anyway though...but now I'm bored, so next subject.
My mind wanders. It wanders like a homeless man. Homeless men wander because they have no home to wander back to. If they did, then they wouldn't be homeless, and if they're still wandering, despite their non-homelessness, then they're just crazy. Plus they probably eventually will be homeless if he or she doesn't continue making those mortgage payments or at least giving money to the utility companies. At the same time, if he's never there, I'm sure he most likely doesn't need those utilities to continue providing service. I don't know. I'm bored next subject.
Music is still playing. A new song. I'm tired of music. Music is actually a very popular thing nowadays. Before, you could say that you liked music, and that was an interest of yours. Now, it's not a matter of whether or not you like it, but what kind you prefer. The tiredness is fading, but my boredom isn't. Next subject.
I don't have some kind of disorder or anything, I suppose I'm just eccentric, or at least that's what people say. I'm one of them. People. Person. Individual. Individual is me. I am the one that is a one. Not a two, three, or myriad, just a one. How many of me are out there? Legitimate question. Just one, or at least that is what I have been led to believe. Should I believe it though? I mean, is it crazy to wonder about that? Is it crazy to question your individuality and uniqueness? When I mention uniqueness, I'm not talking style, but actual uniqueness, as in, clone style. I never saw Attack of the Clones. Just never piqued my interest. Next subject.
How quickly can I type? I don't know. Should I count the miles per hour that I type? Ha ha, that makes no sense. If it made sense then maybe I would consider it. I won't though, it is funny to consider it though. Perhaps the humor comes from the fact that considering it makes no sense, further, what would be considered doesn't make sense either, so I end up in a vat of ill-logic that spreads like AIDS in Africa. I'm sorry, did I just cross the line? Eek, next subject.
My feet are covered. What are they covered in? Is that a serious question? I mean, I'm right here. How can I really ask that like if I am actually wondering. I mean, it would make sense if I was sitting on the edge of a barrel with some strange glowing liquid inside that jumped onto my feet, but no, like I said before, I'm just sitting at my desk with music playing. Let me look down at my feet. Socks. I wear socks quite a bit. Is that normal? I'm sure it is. Next subject.
My mind is scattered. It goes all over the place at once. Most of the time, it leads me to hilarious antics and adventures. Oof, I need a girlfriend. My time is just wasted. Wasted like a college student at a house party. I'm not the biggest fan of parties...depending on the party. Next subject.
If I don't go to parties, then I find myself doing other things. Today? Nah, nothing. Slow day. Relaxing day. Did I relax? Eh. Not so much. I just wasted time; waited for tomorrow. All I did was sit in my black leather chair at my glass desk. Typed. Just typed. Music played. Ugh, next subject.
My mind wanders. It wanders like a homeless man. Homeless men wander because they have no home to wander back to. If they did, then they wouldn't be homeless, and if they're still wandering, despite their non-homelessness, then they're just crazy. Plus they probably eventually will be homeless if he or she doesn't continue making those mortgage payments or at least giving money to the utility companies. At the same time, if he's never there, I'm sure he most likely doesn't need those utilities to continue providing service. I don't know. I'm bored next subject.
Music is still playing. A new song. I'm tired of music. Music is actually a very popular thing nowadays. Before, you could say that you liked music, and that was an interest of yours. Now, it's not a matter of whether or not you like it, but what kind you prefer. The tiredness is fading, but my boredom isn't. Next subject.
I don't have some kind of disorder or anything, I suppose I'm just eccentric, or at least that's what people say. I'm one of them. People. Person. Individual. Individual is me. I am the one that is a one. Not a two, three, or myriad, just a one. How many of me are out there? Legitimate question. Just one, or at least that is what I have been led to believe. Should I believe it though? I mean, is it crazy to wonder about that? Is it crazy to question your individuality and uniqueness? When I mention uniqueness, I'm not talking style, but actual uniqueness, as in, clone style. I never saw Attack of the Clones. Just never piqued my interest. Next subject.
How quickly can I type? I don't know. Should I count the miles per hour that I type? Ha ha, that makes no sense. If it made sense then maybe I would consider it. I won't though, it is funny to consider it though. Perhaps the humor comes from the fact that considering it makes no sense, further, what would be considered doesn't make sense either, so I end up in a vat of ill-logic that spreads like AIDS in Africa. I'm sorry, did I just cross the line? Eek, next subject.
My feet are covered. What are they covered in? Is that a serious question? I mean, I'm right here. How can I really ask that like if I am actually wondering. I mean, it would make sense if I was sitting on the edge of a barrel with some strange glowing liquid inside that jumped onto my feet, but no, like I said before, I'm just sitting at my desk with music playing. Let me look down at my feet. Socks. I wear socks quite a bit. Is that normal? I'm sure it is. Next subject.
My mind is scattered. It goes all over the place at once. Most of the time, it leads me to hilarious antics and adventures. Oof, I need a girlfriend. My time is just wasted. Wasted like a college student at a house party. I'm not the biggest fan of parties...depending on the party. Next subject.
If I don't go to parties, then I find myself doing other things. Today? Nah, nothing. Slow day. Relaxing day. Did I relax? Eh. Not so much. I just wasted time; waited for tomorrow. All I did was sit in my black leather chair at my glass desk. Typed. Just typed. Music played. Ugh, next subject.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Rabbits
To the Rabbit Community:
I understand that I may have offended some of you who happened upon this blog. I know that you are not only real, but not even near-mythical status (despite several harrowing tales I have told young children in a failed effort to disprove your existence). I would like to offer an olive branch between your party and mine. I would never want to discredit the lovely rabbit community that is so desperate to multiply and reinforce the once-popular simile "...as cute as a bunny-rabbit..." (which does not even really make sense because, I mean, what is a bunny-rabbit?). As we all know, it was primarily young children who would make such idiotic mistakes in using the term "bunny-rabbit", however, I would like to place the blame upon parents who utilize this appellation when speaking to the aforementioned children about rabbits, particularly young rabbits. I will allow this terrible and uneducated (in my humble opinion) fusing of two differing nouns referring to a single being to continue as a part of our ceasefire and (hopefully) truce.
Anyway, please, take your "bunny-rabbit" vocabulary and my olive branch as a sign of peace between us. I would love to personally speak to your representative if you are sophisticated enough of a community to have one. I implore you to not take offense at this statement either. I am not suggesting that you are not sophisticated, merely making a reference to human science that has shown time and again that humans have more intellectual prowess, particularly for society and government, than do rabbits.
I duly take pleasure in seeing our long-time feud end, once and for all. May both of our communities sanguinely embrace one another as we now acknowledge each others' existence.
If you so choose to continue to rebel, I will destroy every last one of you...until you become endangered at which point, I'm sure several animal-rights' groups will intervene and prevent any further destruction...With your rate of reproduction though, I would expect you to jump (tee hee!) right off of that list in no time...at which point the destruction will resume!...etc.
Good luck to you in your decision-making process.
Sincerely,
SweatyBootsStink
I understand that I may have offended some of you who happened upon this blog. I know that you are not only real, but not even near-mythical status (despite several harrowing tales I have told young children in a failed effort to disprove your existence). I would like to offer an olive branch between your party and mine. I would never want to discredit the lovely rabbit community that is so desperate to multiply and reinforce the once-popular simile "...as cute as a bunny-rabbit..." (which does not even really make sense because, I mean, what is a bunny-rabbit?). As we all know, it was primarily young children who would make such idiotic mistakes in using the term "bunny-rabbit", however, I would like to place the blame upon parents who utilize this appellation when speaking to the aforementioned children about rabbits, particularly young rabbits. I will allow this terrible and uneducated (in my humble opinion) fusing of two differing nouns referring to a single being to continue as a part of our ceasefire and (hopefully) truce.
Anyway, please, take your "bunny-rabbit" vocabulary and my olive branch as a sign of peace between us. I would love to personally speak to your representative if you are sophisticated enough of a community to have one. I implore you to not take offense at this statement either. I am not suggesting that you are not sophisticated, merely making a reference to human science that has shown time and again that humans have more intellectual prowess, particularly for society and government, than do rabbits.
I duly take pleasure in seeing our long-time feud end, once and for all. May both of our communities sanguinely embrace one another as we now acknowledge each others' existence.
If you so choose to continue to rebel, I will destroy every last one of you...until you become endangered at which point, I'm sure several animal-rights' groups will intervene and prevent any further destruction...With your rate of reproduction though, I would expect you to jump (tee hee!) right off of that list in no time...at which point the destruction will resume!...etc.
Good luck to you in your decision-making process.
Sincerely,
SweatyBootsStink
Portable Fans and Electrical Tape
To all of my relentless fans who love not only me, but my incredible photography and useless photos:
My camera is dead so there will be a fantastic lack of pictures until I find some sort of Camera Tree, or maybe I'll just get a new camera the old-fashioned way: Build it from scratch. I suppose there's the other old-fashioned way which includes giving someone money and them giving me said camera, but I hear that way is becoming more and more obsolete. I'm not an old person and so I won't get into old-person habits of buying cameras from stores. I'll just keep on lookin' for that legendary Camera Tree...I know it's out there, despite its near-mythical status. It's like some sort of...I don't know...rabbit.
Good day to you.
Sincerely,
SweatyBootsStink
My camera is dead so there will be a fantastic lack of pictures until I find some sort of Camera Tree, or maybe I'll just get a new camera the old-fashioned way: Build it from scratch. I suppose there's the other old-fashioned way which includes giving someone money and them giving me said camera, but I hear that way is becoming more and more obsolete. I'm not an old person and so I won't get into old-person habits of buying cameras from stores. I'll just keep on lookin' for that legendary Camera Tree...I know it's out there, despite its near-mythical status. It's like some sort of...I don't know...rabbit.
Good day to you.
Sincerely,
SweatyBootsStink
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Divagation
Perhaps I have been unfair to you, loyal readers, in not fully explaining myself. Yes, yes I understand maybe you're angry. I understand you may be frustrated. I understand you may be undressed as well, and I most definitely urge you to please attain some clothes and place them onto your body in such a way that they are either A, back in place and as they were prior to your confusion and resultant undressing, or B, simply laid upon your body so that I do not have to sit here and think about staring at your rather disgusting nudity (well, you hotties can do whatever the heck you want, if you're hot, then you deserve privileges like these seeing as how you are a part of a higher social class).
Seeing as how this blog is not only written by a hottie, but caters exclusively to hotties, I suppose it is only fair to mention that all of you loyal readers have the aforementioned privilege of reading this "in the buff", or "nek'd" as some prefer to say. Regardless of what you are wearing, or not wearing in some cases (I'll keep my fingers crossed), I believe that we can all agree that I have digressed to a borderline unacceptable degree. Of course, many of you who are rather..."au courant"...would not understand whether or not I was on topic simply because I irresponsibly did not list any form of agenda or even give the slightest hint of the direction I was trying to steer in so as to make my point (if you are a loyal reader, you might not be expecting a point anyway, so there is a good chance this particular stream of logic, or at least the very existence of any form of logic in itself is already to be considered moot...). Before I taper off the plane of our current discursion, I should make this last statement about how anyone not reading this, is most likely not a hottie, so I would ask that you put your clothes back onto your body for wearing purposes. I think you are gross, whoever you are...and you have bad taste for not reading this...don't start though because you will totally screw up my statistics of having a 100% hottie readership.
I have not fully explained myself in regards to previous postings of mine that may have damaged some image of me that you may or may not have developed, and in the latter case, if you have not yet developed any sort of image of me that has been damaged, you may choose to develop one at this time so you can participate and not feel as left out as you currently are. Now, because I am sure that some of you readers who have yet to develop any images would love to take this time to do so (and yet, for some odd reason, find yourself still reading instead of actually stopping to perform the previously mentioned development, despite my giving you extra time), I feel it would only be appropriate to make sure that all of us who already have an idea of who I am--or at least seem to be--have something to do while we wait for everyone else to catch up.
In terms of something to do, how about we just sit quietly? I think that would be best, if we just wait while we wait. There are several benefits to this approach, one being that I do not have to think of something else to do. This helps keep my stress levels down. By having my stress levels at a minimum, you are assured to have a great, calm man to continue to idolize in your spare time. Furthermore, by sitting quietly, you now have spare time to continue to idolize me. I suppose that the greatest benefit, however, is simply that we won't disturb the others who are currently damaging an image that they have now (hopefully) developed.
Now that we are all on the same page, which we should be, if not, please move your eyes from the end of this sentence back to the first sentence at the very top of this article and continue from there. I would like to fix the damage that should have been caused by my previous postings by making an honest statement:
Please fix the damage of my image that may have arisen from previous postings.
This is a very honest statement in that, I am not lying when I ask you to do this for me, so please do it.
What damage?, you might find yourself asking. Well, if you don't know what kind of damage, then please move your eyes from the end of this sentence back to the first sentence at the very top of this article and continue from there. Now that you have reread the article and developed an image of me while successfully damaging it, or at least damaged an image of me in your spare time (which should have been used to idolize me), please fix it.
...
...
...
......
Did we accomplish anything at all? I hope so. I always hope so...but probably not.
I am not currently wearing anything on my feet, but at the same time, I just woke up from a nap, and I'll most likely be heading back to sleep, so I will be putting my Dream Shoes back on, which, honestly, aren't even really shoes, just a metaphor for me returning to my deep slumber.
Goodnight everyone! I love you very very much!
Seeing as how this blog is not only written by a hottie, but caters exclusively to hotties, I suppose it is only fair to mention that all of you loyal readers have the aforementioned privilege of reading this "in the buff", or "nek'd" as some prefer to say. Regardless of what you are wearing, or not wearing in some cases (I'll keep my fingers crossed), I believe that we can all agree that I have digressed to a borderline unacceptable degree. Of course, many of you who are rather..."au courant"...would not understand whether or not I was on topic simply because I irresponsibly did not list any form of agenda or even give the slightest hint of the direction I was trying to steer in so as to make my point (if you are a loyal reader, you might not be expecting a point anyway, so there is a good chance this particular stream of logic, or at least the very existence of any form of logic in itself is already to be considered moot...). Before I taper off the plane of our current discursion, I should make this last statement about how anyone not reading this, is most likely not a hottie, so I would ask that you put your clothes back onto your body for wearing purposes. I think you are gross, whoever you are...and you have bad taste for not reading this...don't start though because you will totally screw up my statistics of having a 100% hottie readership.
I have not fully explained myself in regards to previous postings of mine that may have damaged some image of me that you may or may not have developed, and in the latter case, if you have not yet developed any sort of image of me that has been damaged, you may choose to develop one at this time so you can participate and not feel as left out as you currently are. Now, because I am sure that some of you readers who have yet to develop any images would love to take this time to do so (and yet, for some odd reason, find yourself still reading instead of actually stopping to perform the previously mentioned development, despite my giving you extra time), I feel it would only be appropriate to make sure that all of us who already have an idea of who I am--or at least seem to be--have something to do while we wait for everyone else to catch up.
In terms of something to do, how about we just sit quietly? I think that would be best, if we just wait while we wait. There are several benefits to this approach, one being that I do not have to think of something else to do. This helps keep my stress levels down. By having my stress levels at a minimum, you are assured to have a great, calm man to continue to idolize in your spare time. Furthermore, by sitting quietly, you now have spare time to continue to idolize me. I suppose that the greatest benefit, however, is simply that we won't disturb the others who are currently damaging an image that they have now (hopefully) developed.
Now that we are all on the same page, which we should be, if not, please move your eyes from the end of this sentence back to the first sentence at the very top of this article and continue from there. I would like to fix the damage that should have been caused by my previous postings by making an honest statement:
Please fix the damage of my image that may have arisen from previous postings.
This is a very honest statement in that, I am not lying when I ask you to do this for me, so please do it.
What damage?, you might find yourself asking. Well, if you don't know what kind of damage, then please move your eyes from the end of this sentence back to the first sentence at the very top of this article and continue from there. Now that you have reread the article and developed an image of me while successfully damaging it, or at least damaged an image of me in your spare time (which should have been used to idolize me), please fix it.
...
...
...
......
Did we accomplish anything at all? I hope so. I always hope so...but probably not.
I am not currently wearing anything on my feet, but at the same time, I just woke up from a nap, and I'll most likely be heading back to sleep, so I will be putting my Dream Shoes back on, which, honestly, aren't even really shoes, just a metaphor for me returning to my deep slumber.
Goodnight everyone! I love you very very much!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Devil Promised God a Ferrari
The Devil himself could claw his way to the surface of the earth all the way from the darkest depths of Hell and I would definitely sympathize, I mean, it's a long enough drive from El Paso, Texas to Austin without my having to claw my way anywhere, but seriously? No. I'm sorry. I just cannot find it within myself to lend him a single dollar, I mean, the economy's bad enough as it is without it having to worry about Satan wreaking havoc with some ridiculous scheme of his. He's crazy, you know. An absolute lunatic he is. I doubt my ability to spend more than a few minutes in a room together with him............
I haven't spent more than a few minutes in a room together with nearly anyone recently though. I hate spending time with others...I hate it. I feel suffocated. Our egos can battle against one another all day like two rams butting heads. My head will ache. My joints will bleed. Tears will stream from my eyes, but I will continue to battle. I hate it...them. I absolutely hate it...them.
s t r e s s
"Hate" is a strong word. Stronger than many many...many...people believe it to be. Sticks and stones have got nothing, nothing I say, on hate...them. I'm not crazy, people are crazy. "Crazy" is such a strong word...hate. Do people say I am crazy?...but crazy is so strong. I'm not...not...crazy, no, I just have a watch; I keep time on my wrists...bleeding as they are.
p r e s s u r e
Some people say I have a nervous tick...tock, but that statement is completely unfounded. Those people don't even know me...me me me me me. Who are those people again?...who...like an owl at night...would know me?...who who who!!...heh heh...
God knocked on my door once...my door! He asked for some sugar for his tea. I let him know that I was tired of having to hand sugar out to every one of my neighbors and do you know what he did?...do you know what he said?? He took out a syringe and stabbed me with it! I was so lucky...so lucky! No one gets stabbed anymore...no one two three four five gets gets stabbed stabbed...
I SAID I do not have a nervous tick!...tock! Clocks clocks clocks clocks clocks...heh heh hehhhh...
I asked him, why do you stab...stabbbbbb...me like this? Do you know what he did?...do you know what he said?
He SAID the Devil himself could claw his way to the surface of the earth.
I haven't spent more than a few minutes in a room together with nearly anyone recently though. I hate spending time with others...I hate it. I feel suffocated. Our egos can battle against one another all day like two rams butting heads. My head will ache. My joints will bleed. Tears will stream from my eyes, but I will continue to battle. I hate it...them. I absolutely hate it...them.
s t r e s s
"Hate" is a strong word. Stronger than many many...many...people believe it to be. Sticks and stones have got nothing, nothing I say, on hate...them. I'm not crazy, people are crazy. "Crazy" is such a strong word...hate. Do people say I am crazy?...but crazy is so strong. I'm not...not...crazy, no, I just have a watch; I keep time on my wrists...bleeding as they are.
p r e s s u r e
Some people say I have a nervous tick...tock, but that statement is completely unfounded. Those people don't even know me...me me me me me. Who are those people again?...who...like an owl at night...would know me?...who who who!!...heh heh...
God knocked on my door once...my door! He asked for some sugar for his tea. I let him know that I was tired of having to hand sugar out to every one of my neighbors and do you know what he did?...do you know what he said?? He took out a syringe and stabbed me with it! I was so lucky...so lucky! No one gets stabbed anymore...no one two three four five gets gets stabbed stabbed...
I SAID I do not have a nervous tick!...tock! Clocks clocks clocks clocks clocks...heh heh hehhhh...
I asked him, why do you stab...stabbbbbb...me like this? Do you know what he did?...do you know what he said?
He SAID the Devil himself could claw his way to the surface of the earth.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Curiosity Killed My Cat
You know, sometimes I'll be writing something, and I will just have to stop and think, "What kind of market is there for nonsense?" I wonder these things because whatever kind of market there is, I seem to be catering directly to it. I guess I can only hope it even so much as exists.
The problem with nonsense is simply that it isn't entirely necessary at any given moment in a day according to certain individuals (please note that I am not one of these individuals). It is these individuals that suck the life right out of nonsense. They are brimming with efficiency and logic. In my own humble opinion, however, if one is filled so much with too much efficiency and logic, then purpose is lost. What is the purpose of nonsense, you ask?
Good question.
The problem with nonsense is simply that it isn't entirely necessary at any given moment in a day according to certain individuals (please note that I am not one of these individuals). It is these individuals that suck the life right out of nonsense. They are brimming with efficiency and logic. In my own humble opinion, however, if one is filled so much with too much efficiency and logic, then purpose is lost. What is the purpose of nonsense, you ask?
Good question.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
My Non-Boots
So I'm sure that you avid readers must be asking yourselves, "Didn't SweatyBootsStink say that he would put up pictures of his so-called 'non-boots', like, months ago?"
The answer to that question is simply this:
Yes, I did.
I mentioned that they were Adidas, and surely they are. I finally pulled the picture off of my phone, for the brief time that I was able to. Ha ha, I'm tellin' you, that phone is gettin' pretty screwy. I connected it to my computer to upload the picture, and it just went crazy. I had to select how I would use it seeing as how you could choose to have it simply act as a mass media storage device, a media player, or what have you. Unfortunately, the selection process became a little more complicated when the highlighting selector just kept scrolling without me pressing any buttons. I had to time it just right to select Mass Media Storage Device...That crazy crazy phone, ha ha ha.
Anyway, this picture was taken while I was volunteering to help out with a golf tournament. Honestly, it was probably one of the biggest wastes of time I have ever had the pleasure of being a part of. I will have to divulge all of the juicy details another time. I seriously need to get to sleep since I open tomorrow at work. Do I have anything on my feet currently? Socks. Similar to these:
I suppose I will have to give the story behind this picture as well. Don't worry, I'll get around to it. Just give me a few months.
SweatyBootsStink, signing off!!!!
(Ps, yes, both pictures are of my feet, and yes, I do actually have pictures of my socks and shoes for no apparent reason other than to remind me of the fact that I have both socks and shoes, and I typically wear them on my lower extremeties)
The answer to that question is simply this:
Yes, I did.
I mentioned that they were Adidas, and surely they are. I finally pulled the picture off of my phone, for the brief time that I was able to. Ha ha, I'm tellin' you, that phone is gettin' pretty screwy. I connected it to my computer to upload the picture, and it just went crazy. I had to select how I would use it seeing as how you could choose to have it simply act as a mass media storage device, a media player, or what have you. Unfortunately, the selection process became a little more complicated when the highlighting selector just kept scrolling without me pressing any buttons. I had to time it just right to select Mass Media Storage Device...That crazy crazy phone, ha ha ha.
Anyway, this picture was taken while I was volunteering to help out with a golf tournament. Honestly, it was probably one of the biggest wastes of time I have ever had the pleasure of being a part of. I will have to divulge all of the juicy details another time. I seriously need to get to sleep since I open tomorrow at work. Do I have anything on my feet currently? Socks. Similar to these:
I suppose I will have to give the story behind this picture as well. Don't worry, I'll get around to it. Just give me a few months.SweatyBootsStink, signing off!!!!
(Ps, yes, both pictures are of my feet, and yes, I do actually have pictures of my socks and shoes for no apparent reason other than to remind me of the fact that I have both socks and shoes, and I typically wear them on my lower extremeties)
Friday, June 26, 2009
The Plural of "Rape" is "Rapes"
***Well, I found this bad boy when I was looking through my MySpace blog (yes I have one, despite the fact that I haven't written in it for such a long time) and it's just a classic discussion --that actually happened, might I add-- so I thought you readers might enjoy seeing the writing style of a younger version of myself***
So I was talkin' to my roommate, see. "Joshua" is what I calls him, although what his real name is, I may never know.
Anyway, I says to him "Yo Joshua, I gots a good hypothetical fors ya."
He responds, "Okay Johnny, let's hear it." Of course, in order to protect my identity, I'll have to replace my real name, which he irresponsibly uses too much, with the more common name, "Johnny".
"Okay, now, let's say 'dat 'da mafia is after yuh family. Unfortunately fuh you though, they's a gay mafia. They put a gun in yuh ugly mug and tells yeh...they tells yeh, 'Yuh got two choices. Either take one incestual rape, or two anal rapes.' Now, yuh gots to choose between 'deze two options."
"Hmm..." is all 'dat Joshua could say at 'dat point. I knows he was worried, he ain't one to typically do well in situations like 'deze. I could see all 'dem cogs toinin' in his head as he tried to find a way outta a situation like 'dis one. I could see 'da light turnin' on though; he had an answer. I had to do somethin' to make it more difficult.
"No, THREE anal rapes." Ha, I got 'im good. His face weren't so happy no more. 'Da cogs get back to toinin'. Eventually, I see 'dat he comes to compromise wit' himself. I had to slam him down again before he gave his answer. "FOUR anal rapes." I held up four uh my best fingers to illustrate my point. His face showed his disappointment once more.
"Does it have to be four rapes? Really?" He asks me 'dis wit' such pleadin' emotion. It was 'den 'dat it hit me.
"Is 'da plural of 'rape', 'rapes'? I feel like I should say 'acts of rape' and not so much just 'rapes'." We debated 'dis major issue. In 'da end we came to consensus, mostly 'cuz my buddy Chang confoimed our results.
"Yeah, it's 'rapes' man. Rapesssssssss, oh yeahhhhh." He says to me over 'da phone after I ask him 'bout 'da woid.
"Well, 'dat case is closed Joshua," I tells him in reference to 'da controversy surrounding how to use 'da plural foim. At 'dis point, Joshua goes back to thinkin' 'bout 'da question. I decide against lettin' him think too much about it. It's a bad topic. "Just forget 'da question Joshua. It ain't sanitary to consider such things."
"Okay, thanks Johnny, I didn't wanna answer it anyway." So then I pulled out my tommy gun and robbed a bank....And 'DAT, my friends, is how I loined to drive.
-- June 13, 2008
So I was talkin' to my roommate, see. "Joshua" is what I calls him, although what his real name is, I may never know.
Anyway, I says to him "Yo Joshua, I gots a good hypothetical fors ya."
He responds, "Okay Johnny, let's hear it." Of course, in order to protect my identity, I'll have to replace my real name, which he irresponsibly uses too much, with the more common name, "Johnny".
"Okay, now, let's say 'dat 'da mafia is after yuh family. Unfortunately fuh you though, they's a gay mafia. They put a gun in yuh ugly mug and tells yeh...they tells yeh, 'Yuh got two choices. Either take one incestual rape, or two anal rapes.' Now, yuh gots to choose between 'deze two options."
"Hmm..." is all 'dat Joshua could say at 'dat point. I knows he was worried, he ain't one to typically do well in situations like 'deze. I could see all 'dem cogs toinin' in his head as he tried to find a way outta a situation like 'dis one. I could see 'da light turnin' on though; he had an answer. I had to do somethin' to make it more difficult.
"No, THREE anal rapes." Ha, I got 'im good. His face weren't so happy no more. 'Da cogs get back to toinin'. Eventually, I see 'dat he comes to compromise wit' himself. I had to slam him down again before he gave his answer. "FOUR anal rapes." I held up four uh my best fingers to illustrate my point. His face showed his disappointment once more.
"Does it have to be four rapes? Really?" He asks me 'dis wit' such pleadin' emotion. It was 'den 'dat it hit me.
"Is 'da plural of 'rape', 'rapes'? I feel like I should say 'acts of rape' and not so much just 'rapes'." We debated 'dis major issue. In 'da end we came to consensus, mostly 'cuz my buddy Chang confoimed our results.
"Yeah, it's 'rapes' man. Rapesssssssss, oh yeahhhhh." He says to me over 'da phone after I ask him 'bout 'da woid.
"Well, 'dat case is closed Joshua," I tells him in reference to 'da controversy surrounding how to use 'da plural foim. At 'dis point, Joshua goes back to thinkin' 'bout 'da question. I decide against lettin' him think too much about it. It's a bad topic. "Just forget 'da question Joshua. It ain't sanitary to consider such things."
"Okay, thanks Johnny, I didn't wanna answer it anyway." So then I pulled out my tommy gun and robbed a bank....And 'DAT, my friends, is how I loined to drive.
-- June 13, 2008
Confessions of a Person Who is Me
Perhaps I need to be straight with all of you loyal readers who continuously take the time out of your day to sit, read, and reread these posts (Me, I'm lookin' at you!)...
My name isn't really "SweatyBootsStink". I know that many of you may have actually thought, "This guy named SweatyBootsStink would never lie to me because he just seems to be an unrealistically honest person. Going by this logic, I suppose that I can conclude that he would not lie to me about his name either, so I will unquestioningly assume that his name is, indeed, SweatyBootsStink."
I'm really sorry to disappoint you, but my name is actually one, Ysaac Keith. I am not actually the last Atlantisian, and I apologize to those of you who were led on (by myself) to believe that that is the case. Furthermore, I must admit that I was not born in a volcano named Mt. Legendary Hero (with the even more fictional legend that I had invented regarding the alleged prophesy that anyone born inside the aforementioned volcano would go on to become -- big surprise -- a legendary hero). I was born in a hospital in an apparently unpopular city.
I understand that much of this may come as a shock if you weren't actually in the hospital watching me being born.
I must also admit, that I have fallen deeply in love with Sweet Leaf Tea, which is made right here in Austin, TX where I currently reside. It is so good...
I will also add that I should probably be getting to sleep. It's pretty late and I do have work tomorrow. The unfortunate thing is that I might actually have to go in pretty early, there's no real telling on that matter. I'm kind of waiting on one guy who may or may not show up tomorrow to open his department. If he does not show up --which he didn't earlier today-- then I will have to step in and help out.
Speaking of work, my phone doesn't so much anymore. Or at least the camera built into it. The thing is that I really want to start adding some kind of photographs to this blog, or at least, you know, in my life. I just can't use my camera. If I try to access it, a stupid message comes up saying "Cannot connect to camera", which I always yell, YOU ARE CONNECTED! DON'T TELL ME YOU CAN'T DO SOMETHING THAT YOU ALREADY ARE!! That piece of crap just stares at me in defiance with the same message across the screen though. I think it's trying to make me mad...and boy is it successful. Anyway, if I'm lucky and I don't get that message, I'll get a myriad of unwanted color all over the screen and it does an excellent job of preventing me from seeing anything that I would like to take a picture of. Conclusion: It's not working. I don't know what I did, besides drop it, crack the screen, drop it, toss it around when I'm bored, drop it, viciously open and close it when I'm anxious, and light it on fire.
I have a confession to make: I never lit my phone on fire.
My point is that I need a new camera, and seeing as how the one on my phone isn't working, along with a few other problems I have with that same phone, I should probably look at a new one. Does anyone that reads this blog (me) have any ideas? (No I don't.) I don't know though, I was thinking about the MyTouch one coming out with the google stuff, but...I don't know, I originally wanted a flip phone so it would be more difficult for me to crack the screen since it would normally be closed (my current phone is a Samsung U600, which has a beautiful screen that I successfully damaged within its first week of being in my possession). I guess I'll see what happens.
Socks are on my feet. It's all good. Questions?
SweatyBootsStink signing out!
My name isn't really "SweatyBootsStink". I know that many of you may have actually thought, "This guy named SweatyBootsStink would never lie to me because he just seems to be an unrealistically honest person. Going by this logic, I suppose that I can conclude that he would not lie to me about his name either, so I will unquestioningly assume that his name is, indeed, SweatyBootsStink."
I'm really sorry to disappoint you, but my name is actually one, Ysaac Keith. I am not actually the last Atlantisian, and I apologize to those of you who were led on (by myself) to believe that that is the case. Furthermore, I must admit that I was not born in a volcano named Mt. Legendary Hero (with the even more fictional legend that I had invented regarding the alleged prophesy that anyone born inside the aforementioned volcano would go on to become -- big surprise -- a legendary hero). I was born in a hospital in an apparently unpopular city.
I understand that much of this may come as a shock if you weren't actually in the hospital watching me being born.
I must also admit, that I have fallen deeply in love with Sweet Leaf Tea, which is made right here in Austin, TX where I currently reside. It is so good...
I will also add that I should probably be getting to sleep. It's pretty late and I do have work tomorrow. The unfortunate thing is that I might actually have to go in pretty early, there's no real telling on that matter. I'm kind of waiting on one guy who may or may not show up tomorrow to open his department. If he does not show up --which he didn't earlier today-- then I will have to step in and help out.
Speaking of work, my phone doesn't so much anymore. Or at least the camera built into it. The thing is that I really want to start adding some kind of photographs to this blog, or at least, you know, in my life. I just can't use my camera. If I try to access it, a stupid message comes up saying "Cannot connect to camera", which I always yell, YOU ARE CONNECTED! DON'T TELL ME YOU CAN'T DO SOMETHING THAT YOU ALREADY ARE!! That piece of crap just stares at me in defiance with the same message across the screen though. I think it's trying to make me mad...and boy is it successful. Anyway, if I'm lucky and I don't get that message, I'll get a myriad of unwanted color all over the screen and it does an excellent job of preventing me from seeing anything that I would like to take a picture of. Conclusion: It's not working. I don't know what I did, besides drop it, crack the screen, drop it, toss it around when I'm bored, drop it, viciously open and close it when I'm anxious, and light it on fire.
I have a confession to make: I never lit my phone on fire.
My point is that I need a new camera, and seeing as how the one on my phone isn't working, along with a few other problems I have with that same phone, I should probably look at a new one. Does anyone that reads this blog (me) have any ideas? (No I don't.) I don't know though, I was thinking about the MyTouch one coming out with the google stuff, but...I don't know, I originally wanted a flip phone so it would be more difficult for me to crack the screen since it would normally be closed (my current phone is a Samsung U600, which has a beautiful screen that I successfully damaged within its first week of being in my possession). I guess I'll see what happens.
Socks are on my feet. It's all good. Questions?
SweatyBootsStink signing out!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Joseph Heller is My Hero
Let’s say that I’m walking down the street and there is a guy who is following me who is as conspicuous as a flaming homosexual who is, in fact, on fire. I would spin around on my heel and accost him with a curiosity reminiscent of George, the monkey.
"Who are you?
Why are you following me?
Who would be the would-be inventor of a potential remake of an anonymous idea for a possible hit television show eventually based on the humorous lives of teenage jackalopes lost in New York City as they try to adapt to big city living, but initially based on the terrifying stories of global warming and it’s unfortunate effects on sexual intercourse between nerds and their imaginary significant others?"
While he ponders the impossible midseason transition from nerds to jackalopes, I will creep behind this mysterious stalker and give him a good whack or two to the head with an oversized monkey wrench that I would have handy thanks to my recent decision to carry one with me on brisk walks for occasions such as these prior to leaving my miserably cordial home. Spinning around on his heel and vocalizing a bored “Ouch”, he would then interrogate me with the betrayed fury of a woman scorned. Wondering why he wasn’t knocked out by my monkey wrench, I would then look down to my hand and see that when I had made the decision to carry a monkey wrench, I had accidentally grabbed a female pirate monkey who was frequently seen with my pet monkey on ships and in beds—my “monkey’s wench” so to speak. What a grave error. Looking once more into my bag of tricks (which, in this case, is not a literal bag, but a metaphorical one where I keep all of my diversions, verbal assaults, and pencils) I would reach in and throw out a slew of new questions to keep my stalker/adversary busy for another moment.
"Who gave you the right to spin around on your heel when that is obviously my thing?
Why didn’t you answer my first questions?
Who, of all the people that you know, could be the kind of person who would never be suspected of being an undercover member of the mafia that had always been suspected of being an undercover FBI agent the entire time that he was being inducted into said mafia when he was, in actuality, an undercover member of the Power Rangers Fan Club who had secretly joined back in the early nineties when the rangers were still both mighty and morphin’ and was neither a member of the mafia nor the FBI, but attempted to make others suspect that he was an undercover member of both despite the incontrovertible verity that he could be suspected of neither case?"
Thoroughly perplexed at the first question, he would struggle to find any sort of cogent argument that could possibly refute the possibility that any one person could claim an action for himself. Seeing an opportunity, I would then creep behind him and throw my monkey’s wench upon his back with the ferocity of an exhaustingly depressed softball player gently tossing a badminton player’s shuttlecock to her feeble grandmother who is entirely too old to catch another year with the living let alone a ridiculously shaped sporting projectile.
I would disapprovingly stand and watch as the wench would do absolutely nothing but jump off this still-mysterious stranger, dust herself off, and (hopefully) stagger back to my pet monkey after handing me a reproachful stare filled with more annoyance than an optimist’s glass is filled with water. I would then become distractingly preoccupied with the prospect of a pet monkey that is livid after his owner had irritated his wench to the point of departure.
Would I ever find out who the stalker is? Probably not, but it would definitely be quite the adventure in adjectives and adverbs.
On my feet? Naught.
To be continued? Perhaps.
Goodnight loyal readers!
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Gone are the Halcyon Days...
What ever happened to the days that I would neglect to post an entry in my blog for months simply because I had been filled with a violently emphatic disinterest in posting entries into blogs the moment my ephemeral passion for writing for a largely apathetic audience who will neither acknowledge my existence nor acquiesce to the fact that I am going to own each and every human person on this planet in such a way that will make the other 29 teams' owning of the Colorado Avalanche in the 2008-2009 season feel like the kind of success that only those like Bill Gates can know (more on that later) would evaporate as soon as the pointing finger on my right hand authorizes the creation of a site specifically designed to eventually be as derelict as a baby on prom night?
What happened to the nights that I could sleep through?
What ever happened to the days that I could sit and unproductively consider the wonderfully appealing possibility of doing absolutely nothing at all while simultaneously squandering all 24 hours of that same day which was originally suffused with potential for productively acting upon previous considerations pertaining to possibilities of doing absolutely everything humanly attainable so as to feel a sense of accomplishment and progress for reaching goals that many would even have difficulty dreaming of having as such?
What happened to the nights that dreams were friends?
...and what ever happened to the days that I would look forward to the nights following swiftly after?
What happened to the nights that I could sleep through?
What ever happened to the days that I could sit and unproductively consider the wonderfully appealing possibility of doing absolutely nothing at all while simultaneously squandering all 24 hours of that same day which was originally suffused with potential for productively acting upon previous considerations pertaining to possibilities of doing absolutely everything humanly attainable so as to feel a sense of accomplishment and progress for reaching goals that many would even have difficulty dreaming of having as such?
What happened to the nights that dreams were friends?
...and what ever happened to the days that I would look forward to the nights following swiftly after?
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Late Publication: It's Easier to Understand if You Pretend That You're Reading This Yesterday at 4:00 am
I didn't feel very well yesterday, er, today, er, the day that ended a little over four hours ago. I literally spent the entire day (actually, just "most" of it) laying in bed, hoping to eventually feel better than I was feeling at the time. As it turns out, this wasn't the best plan of action (not that I ever have plans of action, which, in context, would make this, indeed, my best plan of action by default due to that fact). I ended up feeling worse because what else can you do as you are laying in bed besides sleep (please assume in this situation that you are A, single and alone, and B, filled with enough hours of sleep to last for three days)?
Think!
"What's wrong with thinking?" you may or may not (you probably are) be asking yourself. I will tell you what is wrong with thinking and it is this that I will type after the colon which will, as it should, follow these words you are currently reading:
I have been working very hard at not thinking for the past month and a half.
This means that as I laid there and thought, I was taking several steps backward in my dance of progress. In a single day, I had undone months (a month and half, sorry, I like to exaggerate) of hard, thoughtless work! Furthermore, to better understand why thinking itself was somewhat a horrid (just slightly "bad" really, again, exaggeration rears its ugly head) process for me, we (er, you) must realize that the primary reason I was in bed in the first place (second place? no, wait, yeah the first place) was because I was suffering from a terrible (yeah actually) migraine. You may be asking yourself, "Why would someone as awesome and great as the guy with the username 'SweatyBootsStink' have to deal with migraines?" Let me tell you the answer (just make sure you don't believe what I am about to say because I actually have no idea...I'm terrible at understanding the human body, particularly the mind) because I know exactly what happened seeing as how I'm a real genius when it comes to understanding the human body, particularly the mind.
So what happened is that when I was being born, my mind was slowly forming as my brain began to take shape. Unfortunately though, my mind, which is in my brain, was growing way too quickly and too much for my brain. This was bad for my brain. Eventually, my mind was far too big and expanded for my brain to handle so my brain said "Hey you Mr. Mind! Stop this! You're making me ache!" and Mr. Mind said "Shut up you fool! Don't you realize that I'm the mind and I'm super important and if I don't keep growing then I won't reach my full potential to be a great mind?" Mr. Brain said "Ouch! This hurts!" So then I had a migraine when I was being born too, and it would just happen all the time because my mind is bigger than what is supposed to fit in my brain and it just hurts and I feel sick too and Mr. Brain was still talking to Mr. Mind and...uh...he said "Mr. Mind............I"..........Okay, that's enough of this story for now. The point is that I get headaches every now and then just like other people, even though I'm better than them (this was hyperbole at it's utter worst as you can undoubtedly see by the ridiculously elementary and appallingly childish nature of what was supposed to be a scientific and biological explanation pertaining to the occurrences of migraines in humans--even the organization could have been better planned by a monkey with five minutes and a keyboard...I sincerely apologize on behalf of the writer outside these parentheses).
Oh, I feel better now, by the way. Check back at how I feel next time on I Don't Wear Boots! Thanks for being a part of the boots craze, avid readers!
What am I wearing now? Socks. Yes, you're welcome, I wasn't actually going to mention it, but...well I suppose that I just did. Goodnight!
Think!
"What's wrong with thinking?" you may or may not (you probably are) be asking yourself. I will tell you what is wrong with thinking and it is this that I will type after the colon which will, as it should, follow these words you are currently reading:
I have been working very hard at not thinking for the past month and a half.
This means that as I laid there and thought, I was taking several steps backward in my dance of progress. In a single day, I had undone months (a month and half, sorry, I like to exaggerate) of hard, thoughtless work! Furthermore, to better understand why thinking itself was somewhat a horrid (just slightly "bad" really, again, exaggeration rears its ugly head) process for me, we (er, you) must realize that the primary reason I was in bed in the first place (second place? no, wait, yeah the first place) was because I was suffering from a terrible (yeah actually) migraine. You may be asking yourself, "Why would someone as awesome and great as the guy with the username 'SweatyBootsStink' have to deal with migraines?" Let me tell you the answer (just make sure you don't believe what I am about to say because I actually have no idea...I'm terrible at understanding the human body, particularly the mind) because I know exactly what happened seeing as how I'm a real genius when it comes to understanding the human body, particularly the mind.
So what happened is that when I was being born, my mind was slowly forming as my brain began to take shape. Unfortunately though, my mind, which is in my brain, was growing way too quickly and too much for my brain. This was bad for my brain. Eventually, my mind was far too big and expanded for my brain to handle so my brain said "Hey you Mr. Mind! Stop this! You're making me ache!" and Mr. Mind said "Shut up you fool! Don't you realize that I'm the mind and I'm super important and if I don't keep growing then I won't reach my full potential to be a great mind?" Mr. Brain said "Ouch! This hurts!" So then I had a migraine when I was being born too, and it would just happen all the time because my mind is bigger than what is supposed to fit in my brain and it just hurts and I feel sick too and Mr. Brain was still talking to Mr. Mind and...uh...he said "Mr. Mind............I"..........Okay, that's enough of this story for now. The point is that I get headaches every now and then just like other people, even though I'm better than them (this was hyperbole at it's utter worst as you can undoubtedly see by the ridiculously elementary and appallingly childish nature of what was supposed to be a scientific and biological explanation pertaining to the occurrences of migraines in humans--even the organization could have been better planned by a monkey with five minutes and a keyboard...I sincerely apologize on behalf of the writer outside these parentheses).
Oh, I feel better now, by the way. Check back at how I feel next time on I Don't Wear Boots! Thanks for being a part of the boots craze, avid readers!
What am I wearing now? Socks. Yes, you're welcome, I wasn't actually going to mention it, but...well I suppose that I just did. Goodnight!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Redundancy is so Repetitious
"Where the heck have you been?" you must be asking me. Wow, that's completely and absolutely none of your business. If you must know though, I was out doing things that are completely and unapologetically unproductive.
"How dare you unapologize for your unproductivity that you have allegedly, apparently, and/or possibly lately been committing!" you must be disappointedly, ashamedly, and even a little angrily shaking your head at me. Don't worry avid reader, you won't keep shaking your head at me much longer.
"And why not?" you inquisitively and curiously ask. I got new shoes!! They don't happen to be boots, they are, however, Adidas non-boots. Among friends and family, I have been known to near-exclusively wear black Converse Chuck Taylor All Star high-top non-boots (by near-exclusively, I, of course, mean that I would only wear said black Converse Chuck Taylor All Star high-top non-boots, but sometimes I wouldn't). By making this known, you now understand how big of a step this is for me to now recover and be released from the ridiculously monotonous and cliche prison that was an obviously overwhelming addiction to that particular kind of non-boot. I hope to soon take a picture of these non-boots and post it online so that you, my flatteringly obsessive and awkwardly invasive fans can see them and potentially (I'll cross my fingers) buy them yourselves so you can copy (or "emulate", for those who work in an office and hate copier technology) me and maybe even begin the slow, steady, and (might I add) deliciously disastrous path to becoming another me. With more "me"s out there, I can take over the world with my painful and frighteningly schizophrenic banter (Oh how I do so love that frighteningly schizophrenic banter...It reminds me of my youth that I am currently experiencing on my way to adulthood, which I am also currently experiencing--I'm 20, give me a break).
"Oh muh gosh! I can't let you take over the world!" you virtuously and valiantly vociferate, with vibrantly vocalized vigor. You jump to your feet with a passion that hasn't been seen since the last time you jumped to your feet with this kind of passion and look at this blog with murder in your eyes. This murder, however, is the good kind; the kind of murder that you keep in your eyes to save the world from a multitudinous myriad of one redundant blogger that hopes to take over the world with a multitudinous myriad of his redundant self. It is this kind of murder that we all hope to have in our eyes as we stare down a blog detailing an imminent, inevitable, and most notably, unavoidable event that will most likely occur if we didn't...have it (this kind of murder?) in our eyes.
Ahh!!!! No!! I can feel that murder, this blog is saying as you stare at it with the aforementioned murder. Unfortunately, I am not in any way tied to the feelings of this blog, meaning you can stare at these words with as much murder as you could possibly wish to have in your eyes, and I will not feel a thing because, if you must know, I am not this blog (Ha ha! You weren't expecting THAT curveball, now were you!), rather, this blog is an assembly of letters (and sometimes numbers) that I have put together to inform, enlighten, and even tell you of my dastardly devilish scheme. There is a twist though, **SPOILER ALERT** the scheme isn't actually as real as I would hope that it would be. With that, I would like to leave you so that you can continue to guess and wonder about whether or not the alleged "spoiler" was really a "spoiler" at all, or was it merely a lie to keep you, my loyal readers at bay until I find a better solution to world domination? We'll find out, next time on I Don't Wear Boots! Thanks for watching! Goodnight!
I'm not wearing boots right now, I'm actually not wearing anything on my feet as they are naked. Maybe I should go put on some socks? I don't know, at least there aren't any boots on those things...
"How dare you unapologize for your unproductivity that you have allegedly, apparently, and/or possibly lately been committing!" you must be disappointedly, ashamedly, and even a little angrily shaking your head at me. Don't worry avid reader, you won't keep shaking your head at me much longer.
"And why not?" you inquisitively and curiously ask. I got new shoes!! They don't happen to be boots, they are, however, Adidas non-boots. Among friends and family, I have been known to near-exclusively wear black Converse Chuck Taylor All Star high-top non-boots (by near-exclusively, I, of course, mean that I would only wear said black Converse Chuck Taylor All Star high-top non-boots, but sometimes I wouldn't). By making this known, you now understand how big of a step this is for me to now recover and be released from the ridiculously monotonous and cliche prison that was an obviously overwhelming addiction to that particular kind of non-boot. I hope to soon take a picture of these non-boots and post it online so that you, my flatteringly obsessive and awkwardly invasive fans can see them and potentially (I'll cross my fingers) buy them yourselves so you can copy (or "emulate", for those who work in an office and hate copier technology) me and maybe even begin the slow, steady, and (might I add) deliciously disastrous path to becoming another me. With more "me"s out there, I can take over the world with my painful and frighteningly schizophrenic banter (Oh how I do so love that frighteningly schizophrenic banter...It reminds me of my youth that I am currently experiencing on my way to adulthood, which I am also currently experiencing--I'm 20, give me a break).
"Oh muh gosh! I can't let you take over the world!" you virtuously and valiantly vociferate, with vibrantly vocalized vigor. You jump to your feet with a passion that hasn't been seen since the last time you jumped to your feet with this kind of passion and look at this blog with murder in your eyes. This murder, however, is the good kind; the kind of murder that you keep in your eyes to save the world from a multitudinous myriad of one redundant blogger that hopes to take over the world with a multitudinous myriad of his redundant self. It is this kind of murder that we all hope to have in our eyes as we stare down a blog detailing an imminent, inevitable, and most notably, unavoidable event that will most likely occur if we didn't...have it (this kind of murder?) in our eyes.
Ahh!!!! No!! I can feel that murder, this blog is saying as you stare at it with the aforementioned murder. Unfortunately, I am not in any way tied to the feelings of this blog, meaning you can stare at these words with as much murder as you could possibly wish to have in your eyes, and I will not feel a thing because, if you must know, I am not this blog (Ha ha! You weren't expecting THAT curveball, now were you!), rather, this blog is an assembly of letters (and sometimes numbers) that I have put together to inform, enlighten, and even tell you of my dastardly devilish scheme. There is a twist though, **SPOILER ALERT** the scheme isn't actually as real as I would hope that it would be. With that, I would like to leave you so that you can continue to guess and wonder about whether or not the alleged "spoiler" was really a "spoiler" at all, or was it merely a lie to keep you, my loyal readers at bay until I find a better solution to world domination? We'll find out, next time on I Don't Wear Boots! Thanks for watching! Goodnight!
I'm not wearing boots right now, I'm actually not wearing anything on my feet as they are naked. Maybe I should go put on some socks? I don't know, at least there aren't any boots on those things...
Thursday, January 1, 2009
2009
I must say, I'm not very good at things like this. Blogs make me nervous.
"Why?", you may find yourself curiously asking. Because they imply such demanding responsibility, that's why.
"Ah, I see, he does have a pretty good point. Plus, if he starts writing a blog, that means he has to keep writing in it. Yeah, I understand this guy," you might think to yourself.
I mean, if I start writing in a blog, that means that I have to keep writing in it. Can you, the reader (who may very well turn out to be just me anyway), understand that?
"Yeah, I do understand that. In fact, I already thought that same thing earlier in my reading of this blog," you are probably saying, possibly even aloud.
If I don't, then I begin to let down all of my zero fans, which, don't worry, I love each and every one of you.
"Good," I bet you thought at the reading of that last comment.
Not only that though, I just don't seem to know what exactly to blog about, nor do I know how to go about blogging about that mysterious topic that I am currently unaware of. Should I blog about the world news? Should I blog about funny stories I read online? Should I blog about my friends and family? Next, should I blog using a conversational style? Should I lay everything out like a newspaper?
"Those were several questions you just asked!" you just shouted at the computer. Yes, yes they were, and that's the problem.
"Hey, why is this guy putting so many words in my mouth? I'm positive that I didn't think all of the things he thinks that I'm thinking and 'slash' or saying aloud and 'slash' or to myself!" you're undoubtedly angrily contemplating right now.
Don't worry loyal reader, that is completely okay that you are angry. I know that you may not have thought or said those things, that's why I made sure to use words like "probably" or "might" or even "may". I know that towards the end I began being a little more confident in my description of your actions "slash" thoughts, but that just comes with the blog, get used to it.
"Pff, no way, you can't tell me what to do!" you just said. Yes I can, and I will continue to do so. If you still believe that it is not necessarily within my rights to do this...I don't think I want to stumble into a legal debate at this point, so uh.........Happy New Year!
"Aw, thanks for wishing me that happy new year. I really appreciate the fact that you want my new year to be happy," you must be pushing through your immense appreciative smile. Yes, it is true, I do, indeed, want your new year to be happy. I can only hope that I can keep this up. What's that word that I want to say that describes when someone wants to do something with the new year?
"Resolution," you just helpfully whispered in my ear as to avoid embarrassing me in front of my fans who are also you. Thanks, and yes, it will be my new year's resolution to keep up with this blog. Let's hope that this relationship between my blog and I will last.
"Don't you care about the relationship between you and I?" you are wondering.
Yes.
I'm not wearing boots right now, in fact I'm just wearing socks, which, again, as we all know, are not boots. Goodnight!
"Why?", you may find yourself curiously asking. Because they imply such demanding responsibility, that's why.
"Ah, I see, he does have a pretty good point. Plus, if he starts writing a blog, that means he has to keep writing in it. Yeah, I understand this guy," you might think to yourself.
I mean, if I start writing in a blog, that means that I have to keep writing in it. Can you, the reader (who may very well turn out to be just me anyway), understand that?
"Yeah, I do understand that. In fact, I already thought that same thing earlier in my reading of this blog," you are probably saying, possibly even aloud.
If I don't, then I begin to let down all of my zero fans, which, don't worry, I love each and every one of you.
"Good," I bet you thought at the reading of that last comment.
Not only that though, I just don't seem to know what exactly to blog about, nor do I know how to go about blogging about that mysterious topic that I am currently unaware of. Should I blog about the world news? Should I blog about funny stories I read online? Should I blog about my friends and family? Next, should I blog using a conversational style? Should I lay everything out like a newspaper?
"Those were several questions you just asked!" you just shouted at the computer. Yes, yes they were, and that's the problem.
"Hey, why is this guy putting so many words in my mouth? I'm positive that I didn't think all of the things he thinks that I'm thinking and 'slash' or saying aloud and 'slash' or to myself!" you're undoubtedly angrily contemplating right now.
Don't worry loyal reader, that is completely okay that you are angry. I know that you may not have thought or said those things, that's why I made sure to use words like "probably" or "might" or even "may". I know that towards the end I began being a little more confident in my description of your actions "slash" thoughts, but that just comes with the blog, get used to it.
"Pff, no way, you can't tell me what to do!" you just said. Yes I can, and I will continue to do so. If you still believe that it is not necessarily within my rights to do this...I don't think I want to stumble into a legal debate at this point, so uh.........Happy New Year!
"Aw, thanks for wishing me that happy new year. I really appreciate the fact that you want my new year to be happy," you must be pushing through your immense appreciative smile. Yes, it is true, I do, indeed, want your new year to be happy. I can only hope that I can keep this up. What's that word that I want to say that describes when someone wants to do something with the new year?
"Resolution," you just helpfully whispered in my ear as to avoid embarrassing me in front of my fans who are also you. Thanks, and yes, it will be my new year's resolution to keep up with this blog. Let's hope that this relationship between my blog and I will last.
"Don't you care about the relationship between you and I?" you are wondering.
Yes.
I'm not wearing boots right now, in fact I'm just wearing socks, which, again, as we all know, are not boots. Goodnight!
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