When reading a blog, rarely do I care what makes you an expert. I do not research your validity, your background, college, current profession or name. It’s the topic Mr. Anderson…it’s what I Googled. It’s what returned. Where are these people searching for answers on your background on the internet?
It smells. It’s the taste. Your facts sound good, prestigious…I didn’t get past the third word in your bio. Keep it short, keep it factual, shrugs. Make it sound like music to my ears.
My phone doesn’t know who you are yet.
- Do you watch The Sopranos? Meadow is loosing her shit
- What is a question that makes you feel good?
- What year is The Sopranos set in?
- What does 4:44 mean?
8:15 pm 5/10/2017
I’m preheating the oven for some pasta I said I wasn’t going to eat. 8:17, I cut the oven off and laid on the floor and couldn’t stop thinking about tomorrow. Reflecting back on the last 364 days and what has happened:
- Moved out of the roommates mystery mansion.
- Moved in with a guy who told everyone I was his girlfriend and I played the role. Every minute was a low point. Moved out.
- Moved in with the sister. Money this. Rice on the floor that. Slept in the living room because the spare bedroom got turned into the garage because the garage was filled with non-rent paying junk. Moved out.
- Moved into my own place.
Now what. Everyday my head has so many thoughts and at this moment I’m looking for an answer to “is this ok?”
Trust the process. Tomorrow, somewhere around 10am, will be the anniversary of my retirement. To celebrate the momentous occasion I’m going to Topgolf. I hope it rains.
This show is when a lucid dream and what I can only imagine as acid meets. It is all over the place. This show is run by lunatic geniuses. Today is this dudes birthday, he got shot in the eyes, his classic car was scratched by his partner. A mess. What is this dudes problem? Soon they are gonna start cooking blue meth.
Click the pic below for details.
I just got off the phone and the first thing I said to myself is “I’m dating my father”. Why this is a problem:
- I don’t like my father.
- He is that guy who ruins a day with “I’m going to tell you what I would have done for you last week today and it’s also too late”
Somebody please help me understand #2 because it is a big ole pile of it.
And three, I DON’T WANT TO DATE MY FATHER!!
Mama took the show on the road and landed at Wale’s Tabernacle mosh pit! I’m having a blast, yep I’m still here and it’s still going. Dude to the left of me, his breath keeps taping on my shoulder I smell you boo. Ugh.
Wale is leaving now and so am I. Enjoy your weekend!!
Do you find it funny my writing to you? I’ve been waiting for you. I imagine your voice to be sweet.
What do you like?
I want to know everything about you. Your likes your dislikes.
Do you have a favorite food?
What’s your name?
Dancers. You like dancers. Funny.
You like flying. Comfortable.
What are you wearing?
Are you shy?
- Relax yourself. It’s what you do. It’s best for you.
I can see it.