Constitution? What's that?

Can I get a ‘woot-woot’ for daytime TV?

I’ve spent the week on vacation with my family. My grandma’s favorite activity on said vacation is watching those judge shows. You all know the ones. I’ve accompanied her in this task. I label it a task because it is your job, as a viewer, to judge who is lying and who is not. Such a task exhausts me, so I’ve abandoned the cause.

The only more tortuous thing than watching the idiocy that is the modern American (most of which do not know the law, apparently) is feeling slightly violated from the comfort of your couch by Judge Judy.

Wisdom

My life is dedicated to obsessions. They meander this way and that through my life. And new ones continually creep their way into my head. Unfortunately, my head is rather small, and too many obsessions don’t fit very well, so I have to rearrange them often. As of now, I’ve widdled them down to just a few. Diet Coke being the major, most important one.
Sophia Bush has become another. My strange little brother wanted to watch a show called “The Hitcher”. This show SUCKS! Not because it’s a bad movie, not because it’s a terribly made movie, I think neither of those things, but because it basically scared the shit out of me. I don’t remember many times that I’ve been that unbelievably frightened in all my life. I’m all for Sophia Bush being hardcore and awesome, but that was a little much for me.

Ink

I’ve got myself some ink. That’s the “cool” term for it (I’m working on being cooler). Most people know them as tattoos. They’re freaking rad, too. You’d be very impressed. I started the addiction when I was 19. People (by people, I mean family members concerned with my eternal salvation), when they found out, asked me why. I forget my initial answers, I can assure you they were super lame, but I know why now. They put you in a social class, that class being socailly rebellious. Which is the ultimate cool. Don’t get me wrong, they mean a lot to me. I haven’t got barbed wire wrapping my arm. Of course, that would leave me with the wrong image. Rather than being socially rebellious I’d be socially retarded, very uncool. (Note: Those of you of my slight readership that have barbed wire tattoos, I didn’t mean you. You’re very rad. I was really talking about those tribal tattoos. Those guys are screwed up.)
There you go, all you need to know about me. I’m an insulting jerk with randomly adorning tattoos.

Bostonians

My hostile 'blogger' takeover has been set in motion, and I've seen that already I have three of you within my grasp!

Meaning ... there have been three people to have ever looked at my page.

Soon, however, very soon the site may implode due to the astronomical requests to catch the latest rantings of a blogger genius! Bwahaha!

Until then, I suppose topics can be discussed civilly, ones which, if they were conducted in the outside world, would inevitably involve tea. I feel the need to chat it up here rather than in said world because I happen to like neither civility nor tea. With those issues laid upon a table to be later dealt with, we shall continue with our topics.

Today's happens to be how to go about being hired ...

I'm nearly jobless. Nearly jobless does provide benefits. The most practical of which being that it confuses the hell out of people, then they outright stop talking to you. Very convenient when those same people were about to invite you to tea. I happen to be on the payroll for two 'companies'. I never wondered what 'payroll' meant until I was actually on it, and not getting paid. So, while I'll continue to find my name on those payrolls, I expect to add it to another. Where though? I'm a college grad with absolutely no skills or 'life experiences'. Have you heard this term before, life experiences? Would the experience of having heard the word once count as one? I'm not sure what constitutes a life experience. Maybe I should find a job that hunts for that specifically. Then, before tea, people will rush from their houses (to meet wherever they meet for tea), pass me and ask, "Hey! Dead-beat loser! Did you find a job?" And I'll be able to shout a reply, "Why yes, I look for life experiences." Then they will slow, turn about and saunter my way, "Really? How exciting. Would you care to join me for some tea?"

And I will spit in their tea.

Introducticies

Sometimes I make up words.

I've recently learned the meaning of the word "faux". As a result, I may use it until every ounce of definition has drained from it.

Sometimes I write sentences that don't make sense.

Those are the disclaimers. Let's get to it then ...

I expect that my amazing writing skills will draw the BIGGEST blogger.com crowd hence seen! Of all the millions of blogs out there, I'm here to tell you, this will be the one whispered about around the office and quoted in the bedroom.

I'm not really expecting the latter to come to pass, but it sounded cool anyway, and, yes damn it!, I do expect "flea for all motel" to be whispered among all your co-workers. Be glad you're in on the ground-breaking, cherry-popping first blog! When they come up and ask you if you've heard about this new and awesome page you'll be able to say, "Hey, yo, I've been up on that for months now. What's been your deal, Homeslice?"

And they'll hang their head in shame.

Faux Shizzle.