I have nothing of substance prepared for today, so you'll have to deal with THIS: stream of consciousness in celebration of "I love impossible to read literature that no one really understands, but I pretend I do so I can seem smarter than everyone else because I'm secretly insecure" day. Also known as "Yay Ireland! We include James Joyce in your list of historical figures, because...well...you don't have any sober enough to really count" day.
No, really, today is that day, but I forget what the name of it is because i'm too lazy to go and google it. So if you could, Google it, mentally copy it, and paste it into the body of this blog post. Thank you. That's why I love you, reader.
In other news of the stream of consciousness, I wanted to let you know that I have a deep love for something. Deep like, in my gut. Maybe even lower. Maybe deep like in my bowels. Yes, I have a bowels-deep love for being an obnoxious d-bag.
Example: someone just emailed me and said, "oh, sir, lovely mr. Bill - you are so wonderful. Can you please use your extensive knowledge of awesomeness and take a look at problem 'X' for me? Because that would be so incredibly great that I would love you forever".
And I replied back. "Yes, I can."
And then I never looked at it. Because they only asked if I was actually physically capable of doing so, not requesting for me to take that action. ENGLISH LANGUAGE, FOOL. If you look up "english" in the dictionary, you will NOT see your face, because you are dumb. Also, people who do this are d-bags.
If you haven't noticed by now my consciousness is terribly immature and stupid.
SO HUNGRY. NEED TO PEE. WHY IS BATHROOM SO FAR AWAY.
ok, I'm back. with food. and without...extra water weight *ahem*.
I wonder what would have happened if Ulysses had GPS and Skype? No, now i don't wonder, cause I figured it out. He wouldn't have gotten lost, traveling around trying to fight Cyclopses and Sirenes, and dragons (oh my). There were dragons in the story, right? *accessing mental database* - ok now there were.
After the war, he would have b-lined it straight back to his woman, who would have been all "oh Uly (pronounced You-Lee) You iz duh onlee man fo' me." cause she speaks in creole. Then they would have made creole-skype babies.
Although I'm not entirely sure why, because it took him 20 years to cross the channel between turkey and greece. By boat. with an entire crew. Something seems up. Marco (polo!) went from Genoa to Asia and back in 24 years. and he went BY FOOT. Either old You-Lee is navigationally challenged (read: really effing dumb) or he spent 19 years and six months doin' his thang with one of the super-hot Sirenes. cause really, no one believe the whole, "ooo, bee's wax in my ears!" crap.
I'm so sorry for this post. Deeply, deeply sorry. Like, bowels-deep sorry. I was gonna vlog, but didn't get around to it. so this is what you get.