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.