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Friday, May 20, 2016

Let's See How This Goes

    It's been a while since I've written an entry on a non-class day.  At least that's how I feel.  I might have in factuality.  Which turns out to be a word.  I thought I was makin' up some fun new word.  Nope.  Real word.  Whatta let down.  Anyway, great.  What's going on.  I like that MTV show The Real Word about five strangers trying to put together a Dictionary.  Not really.  It's kind of boring.  I do kind of miss Next! though.  That was a mildly entertaining show.  I like the part where they find true love and happiness.  Happens roughly twice an episode, right?  And, even if they don't, they get to ride a bus.  That's a pretty good deal.  Anyway, crap and crap. 
    I don't like the way you eat ice cream.  Next! ... ... I don't like the way you eat ice cream, either.  Next! ... ... Jeez what's wrong with how all these people eat ice cream.  Next!  Anyway, let's see.  I don't know why I associate Next with eating ice cream.  Maybe if it was from the 50's, that would be their main activity.  Anyway, Huh?  I'm proud to say I don't think I've ever had an ice cream soda or some sort of shake or that kind of thing.  Ice cream and soda should be separate but equal.  I feel very strongly about this.  I don't think I've ever drank straight milk.  When I was a kid, only way I would drink it was with chocolate syrup.  As an adult, stay clear of that nonsense all together.
    Third paragraph!  5/20.  That date rings a bell for me.  I think the first recording I made of me playing guitar was 5/20/2005.  Whatta joy.  Since then, I've made hundreds, nay, thousands of recordings of me attempting to play an instrument.  And the good news is, after all that practice, I'm about on par with the average guitarist whose been playing for three weeks.  Nailed it.  What else is going on.  Matt Harvey is stinking it up.  I think it's time to get rid of the Dark Knight moniker.  If he just accepted his role as The White Knight, everything would start clicking.  I guarantee it.  He's Two Face, not Batman.  He's got to come to terms with this sooner or later.  There should be a Batman storyline with Two Face getting burned with acid and becomes Three Face.  Really raise the stakes.
    What else is going on.  In an episode of Mr. Show I recently watched, they mention a fake Mel Brooks movie parody called Bad Man, Whatever.  The first dozen time I heard it, didn't make me laugh at all, I just glossed over it.  Now, I can't get it out of my head.  Badman Whatever.  Hehahahaha.  Anyway, let's move on with the entry and whatnot.  The main two advertising campaigns I remember from the mid 90's were Batman Forever tie ins with McDonalds, where there's a commercial with the Batmobile going through the drive ins, and the Who Shot Mr. Burns promotions with signs up all around in movie theaters and the like.  And, gotta say, really paid off.  Twenty years later I still like The Simpsons and Batman.  These advertisers know what they're doing.  Hook 'em in while they're young. 
    What else and crap.  Fifth paragraph.  This is just flying by. Crap and crap.  I think it's a good thing they didn't have a Who Killed Maude Flanders promotion several years later.  That would be in bad taste.  Real Life killed her.  Just like Troy McClure.  Stupid real life, where does it get off.  What else is going on.  Jeez.  What else is going on.  Jeez.  I drank some Diet Dr. Pepper for the first time in years today.  It reminds me of all those good old times, drinking Diet Dr. Pepper.  Those were the days.  My main memory of Dr. Pepper is, the first time I was in the hospital, my parents bringing me some Diet Dr. Pepper during visitor hours.  What fun.  Really made the whole thing worthwhile, you know. 
    Crap and crap.  Jeez and bullshit.  Nonsense and crapdom.  I haven't been in the hospital for over four years.  #Alright!  What else and crap.  Really knocking some Tweets out of the park.  You know, jokes and crap?  That's wonderful.  What else is going on.  Today's Friday.  How about that.  That means a new episode of Bill Maher roughly every other week, out of the year.  They come in bunches, though.  How complicated and interesting.  That's one of the things I watch with my parents.  Bill Maher, sometimes Fear The Walking Dead.  The point is I'm a good son and spend time with my parents.  They're not gonna be around forever.  I don't like the title Fear The Walking Dead.  Don't tell me what to fear and what not to fear.  I'll make my own decision on a Thing-By-Thing basis.      
  Okay.  Met Game with my brother next month, tentatively.  I don't think I've been at a Baseball game since I've been legal drinking age.  Now I get to spend obscene amounts of money on overpriced beer.  The American Dream.  I like the big screen at Baseball games.  Look at the size of those images!  Lots of fun.  I'm not a fan of the Seventh Inning stretch.  We're almost done at that point.  Just hold in your stretching impulses a little bit longer.  Maybe have it during the fifth inning, that would make some sense.  Also, you're allowed to stretch whenever you want.  You don't need baseball customs to tell you when to stretch.
    What else is going on.  Probably bullshit and crap.  Still need to get my Electric Guitar fixed.  Then, with practice, over another eleven years, I can get to the skill level most people are at after six weeks.  Knock some tunes out of the park.  To use baseball lingo.  I don't get why people bunt.  From my experience, over half the time you're trying to bunt, you strike out.  The risk/reward equation of bunting just doesn't seem to add up.  I should be a Sportscaster.  Bunting-- What's The Deal With Bunting?  That could be an hour long segment.  Or, maybe end it right after introducing it.  Bunting-- What's The Deal With Bunting?  Back to you.
Great.  What else and crap.  I feel like this is the ninth paragraph.  You can't argue with a feeling.  Especially since it's correct in this case.  I did the math.  Counting is math, right?  It's math in it's purest form.  I either made that exact same joke/remark here before, or I'm experiencing some Deja Vu.  Or both.  Can't it be both?  I want it to be both.  We need our own word/phrase for Deja Vu in English.  I'm tired of having to speak French to discuss this phenomenon.  Doesn't seem right.  What about Vuja De?  Nothing's gonna change my world?  Is that relevant?  That's That's not how the song goes.  You're not how the song goes.  Get off my website!
The good news is What Else.  I don't trust The Universe.  Have you seen this movie Alien?  That thing picked off almost the entire crew, one by one.  Can't be trusted.  Let's just stick to Earth.  Maybe Mars.  I feel bad for Venus.  It's got a lot going for it, but since it can't be inhabited, no one gives a fig.  The good news is What Else.  Now that Michael Jackson is dead, who owns the rights to Beatles Songs.  Gotta be someone.  Who cares what what else and bullshit.  I don't know.  This is teh tenth paragraph.  I think I have it in me to reach 15.  I got nothin' else to do.  I don't know.  What else and crap.
    I don't know.  Crap and crap, I guess.  Probably get my Grade for Spring Class next week or so.  I predict a, "B."  Participated the crap out of the class, but I was missing a few workshops of other people's stories.  We'll see how that goes.  I think it's pretty impressive how I always had one or two things to say about other people's stories, when 90% of them I didn't read/understand.  I read most of them, but none of it registered.  I'm bad at reading, I guess, that's the point.  I don't even understand most of what I write.  How can I understand what you write. 
    Anyway.  Twelfth paragraph or something.  How wonderful.  Weekend coming up.  You know what that means.  NYTimes Mini-crosswords getting put up for the next day several hours earlier.  I think that's great.  Also, who cares.  What else.  Jeez, this entry is closing in on being over.  I can't wait.  I can go back to, well, let's see.  What do I do when I'm not writing an entry.  Playing poker.  That's good.  I think wasting so much time playing non-money poker has really sharpened my skills.  I feel like, if they ever legalize it again, I could play one table of .50/1, and make five or ten dollars an hour.  That's great.  I could almost support myself on that wage.  And, if Bernie wins the presidency, I think it's illegal for them not to give my fifteen dollars an hour while gambling.  That's how laws work, right?
    Probably.  Who knows for sure.  The good news is still What Else.  I don't know.  It's time for New Rules.  New rule-- ... ... ... Never mind.  I was hoping I'd come up with some sort of rule.  A rule that's new.  I couldn't.  Oh well.  I get a comment every month or so from a rival poker player complimenting my username.  Again, might have said this in the past, or having some Deja Vu.  The username is Crymeariver0.  River-- like poker?  Hilarious!  Fiendishly clever!  Sure knocked that one out of the park.  Huh.  Two and a half paragraphs to go.  Even less.  Two and a quarter, really.  That's great, just great.  Jeez.  Dinner when this is over.  That's good.  Straight from one thing to the next thing.  No down time.  Down time's no good.
    Alright!  Two to go.  I can do that, do it hardcore.  Jeez.  What else and crap.  This is the sixth entry of the month?  That's pretty good.  3 out of 10 days.  Perfect.  The good news is What Else.  I like how Clinton campaigns on the idea of, We want to continue what Obama did, not go backwards!  Yeah, cause nominating the wife of the president we had in the 1990's wouldn't be going backwards.  We'll just shift right on over to two decades ago.  Tamagachi.  Other things.  That's how I feel.  What else is going on and/or how I feel.  Badman, Whatever.  So stupid.  Yeesh.  Almost done.  So close, so close.  Then, who knows.  Ten minutes of lying in bed, contemplating where my life went wrong.  Then, fifteen minutes of eating.  Then, some more poker playing.  Gotta sit up after I eat.  Can't lie down.  That's no good for digestion.
    And I'm all about digestion.  All about it.  Jeez.  There's a few movies On Demand I've been meaning to watch.  Resevoir Dogs.  I think I have that on DVD.  Maybe not.  Either way, haven't seen it in a decade and a half.  I remember their names are colors.  Whatta goof.  Colors are pretty common names, though.  Black, White, Green, Brown.  All legitimate last names.  Never met a man with the name Purple, though.  I guess it's on me to start that.  Change my name to Purple, my kids are named Purple, sooner or later, it's a big name.  That's how that might go.  Almost done with the entry!  Whatta joy it's been.  Turns out I can still knock some entries out of the park even without it being scheduled when I get home from school.  Wonderful.  I'll see ya later.

-6:05 P.M.


Tuesday, May 17, 2016

See You In Hell, Class I Enjoyed!

    I'm here.  That means one of two things.  I'm writing an entry, or some other thing.  I don't have the time to think of a thing.  Busy schedule.  I'm gonna have a class in three weeks.  Who has the time.  Anyway, Hi!  I swip/swapped the classes I would be taking for Summer.  I was gonna take Philosophy first session, Non Fiction Writing second.  Flip/flopped 'em.  I wanna do the thing that's easier.  I think we can all understand this.  Anyway, great, what else.  There's an Angry Birds movie.  I assume the Executive Producers' Intent was Let's Make Everybody Hate Us.  Can't think of another reason.  Oh, I know.  Let's Make Everyone Not Respect Us.  That could be it.  Oh, one more possibility, DUHHHH I'M A FREAKIN' MORON.
Anyway, great.  I can make some wise cracks in a Non Fiction Class.  Hey, is this class about Indian Bread Fiction?  Oh, Yeah!  He Who Smelt It Dealt It.  Let's See What's Behind Door Number Two!  That's how that might play itself out.  Anyway.  If you want to be anonymous about sending flowers to somebody, signing He Who Smelt It Dealt It might be one way to go.  You know, if your goal is to be an idiot.  If that's your goal, go ahead and see Angry Birds in theaters.  At least it's dark in the theater and nobody would be wise to your idiocy.  What else and crap.  Might be going to a Met game at some point with my brother.  It's great.  Four out of five nights, you're gonna see an exceptional pitcher.  And the fifth night you get to watch Big Sexy do his thing.  100% chance you'll be pleased with the pitcher. 
    That's how that goes.  I figured out that my Thyroid condition decreases metabolism.  That must be why I can't eat whatever crap I want all the time and not gain weight.  Stupid Thyroid, thinks its so great.  We get to see what Kentucky and Oregon think about Democarts.  I've always wondered, Do People in Kentucky get to vote?  If so, why.  Democarts.  Political Commentary!  My thyroid disorder is called Hashimoto's Disease.  Pretty sure that's what caused Godzilla.  He's on some strange hormones and, well, look what happened.  Anyway.  Godzilla isn't that hard to defeat.  Just hit him with some strong caliber bullets or bombs or something, he'll go down like a sack of potatoes.  Big potatoes.  The biggest potatoes you've ever seen.
    That's a thing.  I guess.  DDo you like Potatoes?  How do you like them potatoes.  I also think we should call our testicles potatoes.  Nobody's stopping us.  How'd you like some mashed potatoes?  I wouldn't like that, not at all.  What makes you think that I might have wanted that.  Don't mash my potatoes.  I can say this very confidently, leave my potatoes alone.  That's a thing, I guess.  I'm pretty sure Captain America: Civil War is about Lincoln.  His code name was Captain America, right?  Should be.  Forget President Lincoln.  From now on, he goes by Captain America.  No reason not to.  I was hoping at the end of the last class, Professor was gonna ask us if we want to make closing statements.  I had a whole brief prepared.  If you liked my stories, be sure to check out my music at...  If I'm not pimping myself in a social situation, why bother at all.
    Anyway.  I was about to google, Can Godzilla Be Defeated?  Just to see what the internet has to say.  Stopped myself just in time, though.  I don't want that in my search history.  Google'll be pimping assault rifles that have proven track records against oversized monsters.  Leave me out of it.  I just was wondering, that's all.  Fifth paragraph.  That's how that goes.  I still gotta get my guitar fixed.  You know, cut off the potato sack?  Things!  Crap and crap.  Daniel Murphy is hitting .400.   That's 2 for 5 every day.  That's a lotta days.  Huh?  Anyway.  Great.  I've noticed I get drunker by drinking plain alcohol than I would drinking mixed alcohol, even if the amount of alcohol is the same.  It's a great discovery.  It turns out I'm a genius.
    Sixth paragraph!  Feelin' like a 10'r today.  Tomorrow, a baritone.  Then, a Soprano.  Whatta dumbo.  Anyway, huh?  The Circus is getting rid of the elephants.  Won't Somebody Think Of The Elephants?!  That's probably how that went.  I think both major political parties could do a lot better with the animal the represents the.  Donkey.  Ok, so you're all asses?  Elephant.  So you're huge albatrosses of limited intelligence?  Both may be true, but, come on, accentuate the positive.  Dumbos.  Political Commentary!  Great.  I've heard that An Elephant Never Forgets.  How did they do that study.  That's what I wanna know.
    Great!  You can get Donkey Rides around the Grand Canyon.  Is that relevant?  My guess?  Probably.  More than halfway through May.  You know what that means.  Less time until June.  Great.  There's an Applebee's on the way to Queens College and sometimes I just stare at it longingly through the bus window and think about where my life has gone wrong.  I used to eat at Applebees with my family when I was a kid.  With my friends when I was a teenager.  Now, where am I.  Neither a kid nor a teenager.  With no family or friends.  Something seems wrong about that.  I guess I'm still a teenager.  I'm seventeen-teen.  Probably.  I didn't do the math that carefully.  The point is I like restaurants.
    Anyway.  I've got a family.  There's these two people called my Parents and this guy who says he's my Brother.  My mind is pretty fragile, so I'll have to take them at their word.  What else and crap.  I also have two cousins who sometimes read the bullshit I write.  And an uncle who takes me gambling.  And that guy's wife.  Turns out I have a huge family.  You know, roughly seven people or so?  That's how that goes.  You can even extrapolate it towards half a dozen or so people I see at Christmas only.  Good people.  Put up with my bullshit.  Friends?  You know, sure, probably.  There's those guys I haven't spoken to since 2012.  There's the people I haven't spoken to since 2006.  There's the people I haven't spoken to at all yet, but may in the future. 
    Whatever.  I'm gonna have lasagna for dinner!  Whatta moron.  Don't know what that accomplishes or what it means.  Let's just move on.  Ninth paragraph.  Alright!  I don't like the saying that goes, A million monkeys at typewriters will eventually write Shakespeare.  Shakespeare didn't have no typewriters.  If you wanna go down that road, make the monkeys have to write it by hand.  You'll find it's practically impossible for a monkey to write Shakespeare by hand.  Hell, they'll never even get the one word Shakespeare right.  Just my opinion.  What else and crap.  I wonder if there was a real Mavis Beacon who gets royalties off of every copy sold.  My guess?  Nah, probably not.  Oh well.  There goes that positive black female role model.  She taught us that black females can rise to the highest echelon of keeping notes.  
    What else and crap.  Tenth paragraph.  Will we go beyond ten paragraphs?  Can't say for sure yet.  Can we write the tenth paragraph?  Nah, not us.  Only me.  Democarts.  Zinged.  My main impression of Kentucky is that it's a state for some reason.  No one really knows for sure why.  The good news is What Else.  The Mets are playing The Nationals.  That raises the stakes somewhat.  They'll do good.  Do good hardcore.  They've got an entire pitching staff that's entertaining.  That's how you get to the playoffs.  Anyway.  I'm still here.  Writing crap.  That's how that goes.  Gone through the first season of Mr. Show with my Mother.  She laughed a few times.  Enough to make her agree to continue watching it.  And it's great watching it with someone else, theoretically.  You get to laugh like it's the first time all over again.  Except she doesn't laugh enough.  Laughs enough to agree to continue watching it.  Not enough that I'm constantly looking over at her, thinking, You Idiot, Laugh NOW.
    That's how that goes.  Great.  She said she thought it would be more political.  Which brought back a memory of when I first watched it.  I also thought it would be political for some reason.  Who can explain this.  Not me.  Not my mother.  David Cross and/or Bob Odenkirk, maybe.  They're the authorities on the subject.  The good news is let's keep writing and/or reading.  My Mother really feels bad for David Cross.  She sees Bob Odenkirk, Jack Black, and goes to me, Why didn't' David Cross become successful.  I tried explaining to he that he is, in the path he's chosen.  She's not having none of it.  Feels bad for David Cross.
    Anyway.  Four paragraphs to go.  I can do that, do it hardcore.  I find it odd that the major league record for strike outs in a game is 20.  I feel like I could beat that if I really put my mind to it.  Just get 21/27 outs to be strike outs.  That's roughly three out of four.  I can do three out of four, no problem.  I could probably strike out, myself, seven or eight times a game, if it goes into extra innings.  The Double Golden Sombrero.  A rare feat.  The good news is What Else.  I could probably make it to First Base from Home in a even thirty seconds.  I'm half the size of these guys.  Takes twice as long to run with my legs to some point.  That's Math, that's all that is.  Like, if it was a giant, a Godzilla type, one step and he's at first base.  That easy.
    Three more to go!  Talk about Greatness.  That's me.  I wouldn't have pimped this website to Class.  I talk about it too much in here.  That's no good.  I can safely say that not one of the songs that I stopped writing/putting up over a year ago is about this class.  Great.  The good news is Huh?  Hey, what else is going on.  Probably crap and stuff.  I should just take an American Studies class instead of Philosophy.  Philosophy is hard.  American Studies is, like,  America Made Cars!  Then Comes The New Deal.  Martin Luther King Cured Racism.  A+ please.  The good news is this paragraph is almost over.  We can go on to forgetting whatever bullshit I just said.
    Yeah!  Two more to go.  The finish line is in sight.  What else and crap.  I was about to check this Month to see if I've done fifteen paragraphs yet.  I was gonna hit Ctrl+F and type in 15.  Because I don't know how computers work.  Great.  One of my favorite computer stories, I've said it here before, but I'll say it again because it fills space, we just got our new PC and my brother typed into DOS, Can You Hack Into School Computer.  Love it.  Wonderful.  Where's That Tab I Ordered.  That's from The Simpsons.  I like my life better than The Simpsons.  Probably because The Simpsons is in and of itself a tiny subset of my life.  I've watched it a bunch of times.  Plus, this way, I get all the crap my life has had to offer.
    Alright.  Here we go.  You mother fuckers are gonna believe it now.  Last paragraph.  What's going on.  Today's Tuesday.  You know what that's like, right.  You should.  You spend 1/7th of your life during it.  Musta picked up something about what makes Tuesday Tuesday.  I don't know.  Just a few more sentences to go.  Apparently Shake Shack is a thing that's gentryfing the outer boroughs.  I guess there's no room for a restuarant started by a simple man, Mr. Ronald McDonald, and his dream of selling hamburgers to people.  The modern world wants alliteration in their fast food restart name.  What a cruel world that we live in.  See ya later.

-5:57 P.M. 


Thursday, May 12, 2016

Award Shows Where Award Shows Win Awards

    I heard it in The Critic.  It hit me right in the laugher zone.  Anyway.  One more class for the semester.  Did some group leading-the-class-in-the-reading today.  Don't mean to brag, but I sure asked some questions about the reading and had other people answer them.  Asked some questions about the reading and had other people answer them hardcore.  I got a sixth follower on Twitter only for a day.  Back down to five.  Guess they didn't like what I was putting out there.  Oh well.  I'm sure, one day, I'll have a dozen followers.  I can hardly imagine.  Anyway, what the what.  Two home runs for Thor.  Again, a nickname I wouldn't use, but he earned it.  Never calling Matt Harvey The Dark Knight, though.  That goes against all Batman-logic and I refuse to participate in it. 
    Jeez.  Steven Matz' nickname should be The Other Guy.  That's the sort of thing I could get behind.  I guess.  Stole that from Blankman.  I should just make an entry entirely crafted from jokes from movies.  That'll be a quality entry.  I guess.  The good news is what else is going on.  I could get Pizza Hut today.  That'll bring me back to over a decade ago.  All that sugar.  Who doesn't like sugar in pizza.  Can't get Meat Lovers, though.  I'm on a diet.  Gotta go with Supreme.  That's only half meat.  Half vegetables.  The meat and vegetables cancel each other out.  I'd be a fool not to get it.
Alright.  Sure.  Why not.  Part of me wants to take a break from school and not do the first summer session.  The other part of me has shit else to do.  Which side will win?  Probably the second one.  I'm already registered and I don't know if I have the work ethic involved in canceling the class.  It could take upwards of two minutes.  I don't have time for that.  Stupid Philosophy.  How many jokes can I make in a Philosophy class.  Little to none, that's how many.  I bring that up every entry.  It's important.  I'm like a shark.  If I'm not constantly making jokes, I die.  That's what happens to sharks, right?  Except not jokes.  That would be weird.  For sharks it's swimming.  I heard it somewhere that was perhaps a credible source.
    Okay.  Crap and crap.  What else and crap.  Why does Pizza Hut deliver.  You're taking away your main advantage-- being a Hut.  That's what you based your entire name around.  Then leaving the Hut and going to people's houses?  What kind of fools are you.  I don't get it.  What else.  I don't know.  Probably something.  What it is, though, is beyond me.  Lots of things are beyond me.  Pretty much, there's myself, then there's things that are beyond me.  If we're talking spatial things and crap.  I don't know why we wouldn't be.  Great.  This'll be a shorter entry.  I'm not even sure how I got this far.  I can safely say I didn't achieve any humor, nor interestingnessitude.  Oh well.  Five paragraphs ain't bad.
    Last paragraph!  Then what.  Crap.  I can watch the second half of Rosemary's Baby.  I like horror movies.  They're a break from my even scarier regular life.  Wonderful!  I don't know.  Spoiler Alert To Myself: The baby is the devil.  Or some kind of higher up demon, at least.  Damn I spoiled it for me.  I thought it was just a regular baby.  And it's a movie about babies.  Five paragraphs isn't enough.  At least get to seven or eight.  I can do that, probably.  If Rosemary is so great, she ought to raise The Devil to be an upstanding citizen.  It's all about nurture.  Forget Nature.  Nurture is where it's at.  I say, he turns out to be a bastard, that's on Rosemary.
    Okay.  Sure.  I've noticed a disturbing trend.  Exorcist-- Mother is an actor.  Rosemary's Baby-- Father is an actor.  I guess actors --> Devil babies and children.  I'm just looking at the facts.  That's Philosophy.  Pretty sure every Philosophy includes a, "-->"  It was originally a Roman symbol meaning, Look to the right.  Okay.  I don't know.  I got a paragraph and a half to go, that's all I know.  I have to go several weeks without riding the bus.  That doesn't seem fair.  I want to ride the bus to the greatest extent possible.  I don't like how every fourth or fifth bus you see says Next Bus Please.  You're apparently going on the right route.  Your bus is working.  I see it driving.  Lemme on this bus.  What's the problem.
    Alright!  Jodie Foster was on Conwald O Brienson's show last night.  I have Taxi: The Driver: The Movie on DVD.  I could watch that.  I haven't seen that since back in Pizza Hut days.  "Feel Good Movie Of The Year!" I believe was a review of it.  Jodie Foster should be Sigourney Weaver.  Let's talk about it.  No idea what that means.  The point is Half a Paragraph to go.  Let's see.  I need to get one of my Electric Guitars working.  I'm sick of playing it without power.  Play my Acoustic guitar instead?  What are you, some sort of fool?  I'm not on board with that crap.  I'll see ya later.

-5:11 P.M.               


Tuesday, May 10, 2016

That's Not Supposed To Happen

    Hey friends and enemies.  Shared my Best Sentence in class today.  I realized this morning Not Guilty is a verdict, not a sentence.  So I went with Five To Ten Years.  Feel like it got an appropriate response.  Teacher faking interest and excitement for two seconds, me butting in saying it's a pun, Teacher faking more interest and excitement, Old Wise Lady going That's Great.  And that was that.  Old Wise Lady going, You Should Have Gone With Probation.  Me going, What The Hell Do You Know You Idiot.  After Teacher got some time to process it, though, I feel like she liked it.  By the time we were going around the room talking about our inspiration, and I go Well, it made me laugh, she seemed to be on my side about the whole thing.  Anyway, what else is going on in the news. 
    Bartolo Colon hit a home run.  I don't quite get what all the fuss is about.  I know they're always making fun of his swing and how feeble he looks at the plate.  I get that.  From that perspective, it's pretty cool.  But beyond that, I don't know.  I do enjoy it from a Hey, other people love this, I can get on board with that perspective.  And, watching it live, I admit I rewinded about three or four times to hear Gary Cohen call it over and over.  Fun moment, sure.  What else and crap.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I Like The Mets.  They are The Team That I root for.  Not sure what that accomplishes. 
    Anyway, crap and crap.  There was one bus right behind the other, and a wheelchair guy was getting on the front bus, which had less passengers than the second bus.  This sounds like a Math Team problem.  But anyway, I wanted to get on the first bus, because, easier to get a seat.  But the bus driver told us all to get to the other bus as the Wheel Chair guy got on.  I wanted to wait, I'll wait for the wheelchair guy, then take the seat waiting for me.  Ordered not to, though.  You know what that's like, right.  Anyway.  That was pretty much an entire paragraph.  That's great.  I hope you enjoyed it.
    What else.  Bartolo Colon has earned being called his own Nickname that he wants.  I'm retiring Big Man and bringing in Big Sexy.  He earned it.  The good news is What Else.  I'll even add Bartolo to the list of accepted words on Microsoft Front Page.  No more wavy red lines for Bartolo.  To Bartolo It should become a phrase when you do something great that's unexpected and everyone reacts a little bit too much.  Anyway.  Something else has gotta be going on.  It's May 10th.  We've had a full five and a third months into the year.  I can't tell you one thing that's happened.  Sure, political candidates.  A little bit of Supreme Court whatnot.  I feel like a Star Wars was released.
    Huh?  Anyway.  Power went out for a few hours yesterday.  Damn Electro.  Won't leave me alone.  I don't get why they call working late hours The Graveyard Shift.  What does working late have to do with graveyards.  Is it just, Late hours are spooky, graveyards are spooky.  Seems like something's missing.  I blame Stephen King.  Probably was him in disguise getting on the bus.  Mucking it up for the rest of us.  Why should wheelchair guy get to sit and not me.  Doesn't seem fair.  Reverse handicapism.  What else is going on.  It's scary at night.  You know, scary like graveyards?  Grow the fuck up.  You're an adult.  Just be happy you've got a job.
    Crap and crap.  What else and crap.  I've never seen a place that serves Cold Antipasto.  Feels like you can drop the, "Hot," from your name description.  We'll all be on board, we get it.  Some places must probably serve Cold Antipasto.  Get off my website.  Jerkbag.  Also, why is it so anti-pasta.  You're on the same menu.  Come on, show some team spirit.  Crap and crap.  This entry is a real sledge.  Just keep sledging through it.  Of course, there's the ecstatic payoff of finishing it.  Both for me, and you.  It's over! we will both feel, not at the same time.  I can't wait.  It's gonna be great.  Every time I get a couple of beers after class, the way I decide what to get is based on which commercials I tend to favor on that specific day.  Well, more accurately, which ad campaign I dislike less.  I really, really hate these Bud Light campaigns.  Gonna go wit Coors Light.  Next week, I could do without the Coors commercials.  Gonna go with Bud Light.
Great.  What else.  Seventh paragraph.  Feel like I had some good social commentary with The Graveyard Shift Discussion.  That's a plus.  Haven't had Pizza Hut in, I don't know, a Decade?  That would be a fun Mix-Em-Up for dinner.  I guess.  Who knows.  We ended up not turning in the Sentence Assignment, just reading it.  But she said it had to be typed.  I didn't realize until walking to school that Not Guilty wasn't a sentence.  So I was prepared to hand in Not Guilty! with a line through it and then written Five To Ten Years.  I feel like that's cheating in a very clever way.  I was stressing about it, but I actually talked myself into thinking it's even better this way.  Oh well.  What else is going on and bullshit.  Also, I of course was going through how long the sentence should be, and I decided on Five To Seven Years.  Then when I was writing it I accidentally wrote Ten, which was another possibility I was thinking about.  I feel it all worked out for the best.
    Great!  Just great.  What else is great.  Couldn't go with Months.  Years raises the stakes.  The good news is I got to show off my idiocy to my classmates and teacher.  That's a Win in my book.  Also, I forgot to tell you, I'm writing a book.  It's called The Big Book of Wins and it's going to be great.  What else and crap.  Eighth paragraph.  How about that.  Pizza Hut is closed on Tuesdays.  Only Tuesdays.  How about that.  Probably saved myself there.  Anyway.  How about that.  I feel like I'm doing pretty good at Twitter.  Got two followers who I don't know.  That's not bad.  It increases reverse exponentially, though.  You know how that goes.  The higher it goes, the more space in-between how Quality At Twitter you are.  That's reverse exponentialitly, right?  If it were a word, I mean.
    Great.  I could always get Dominos.  I could be the person that's just stupid enough to get Dominos.  That would be great.  Anyway, what else and crap.  I'm not even sure if I want pizza.  Oh, Man.  So much to think about.  Might be going to a Met game with my brother at some point over the next couple months.  I've never been to Citifield.  I'm under the impression it's some sort of Field.  I can't wait to find out.  Jeez.  Crap and crap.  Probably a 10'r of an entry today.  I always say that, though, and end up doing 15.  Doing 15, that really hits the spot.  To use Dog-Abusing lingo.  When we were kids, me and my brother wanted a dog.  We got a cat instead.  Parents didn't want to take care of a dog.  Ended up having to take care of the cat.  Jokes on them.  THe last few years she was a real nuisance, throwing up all over the place.  Oh, cruel irony.
    I don't know what irony is anymore.  I even made a Tweet about it.  How Ironic.  Probably not.  Couldn't hurt to wonder, though.  Jeez.  hat is this, the tenth paragraph?  Alright, great.  What else and crap.  Gotta do crap when this is over.  Just my luck.  Havin' to do crap, and crap.  Doesn't seem fair.  I feel like it's either tonight or tomorrow night when they have Two In a Million on.  It's a show about two freaks who think they're the only kind of that freak and they meet each other and have fun talking about what it feels like to be freaks.  It's a heartwarming tale of American Exceptionalism.   Which I'm pretty sure is a word, despite what Microsoft Frontpage says.  It may not be being used properly, but it damn sure Hell is a word.  I don't know.  Crap and carp.
    Eleventh!  Paragraph.  In case you got confused.  Paragraphs are what we're keeping track of over here.  Met game, probably.  That's great.  Hey, I got DVDs!  I've only watched some of these movies a dozen times.  That's one more to complete The Baker's Dozen.  Gotta do it.  That's a podcast reference.  They also make jokes any time the number "69" comes up.  I want to say ironically.  When I was canvassing with my brother, he said something about 69th street, and I instinctually went Up Top My Brother.  I think it confused and angered him.  That's how I felt, at least.  Confused because I never found that funny.  Angry because I lost control of my own wits.  Oh well, these things happen.
    Jeez.  I guess I'm pot committed to fifteen paragraphs.  This is already the twelfth.  That's roughly 12/15ths done already.  I did the math.  Five to ten years.  I'm gonna stalk my Teacher's Twitter, waiting for her to go, My Student Just Did Something Great Today!  I'd be that excited about it if I were her.  Is it possible I was unconsciously thinking of Five To Ten Paragraphs?  I wouldn't rule it out, no.  It's still the twelfth paragraph.  That doesn't seem right.  And it's not even two and a half to go.  It's three and a half.  I ain't doing that.  That's bullshit.  I'll see how I feel on a paragraph by paragraph basis. 
    I want a Super Nintendo.  If I could magically and immediately have any game system with a dozen or so games, I'd go with Super Nintendo.  Nintendo 64 as a back up.  Then Dreamcast.  I didn't have Dreamcast for long, but when I did, Oh Boy.  Hey, it's the thirteen paragraph.  They can't all be gold.  In fact, they did studies, and only roughly two out of thirteen paragraphs can be gold.  That's how that goes.  I really don't get how we still have economies based around gold.  Hey, it's a rock.  A specific kind of rock.  Great.  In the post apocalyptic future, lack of interest and sarcasm will be our currency.  That's how I feel.
    Short paragraphs means Fifteen is an obtainable.  Not like that unobtaninum nonsense.  I never even saw Avatar.  I'm pretty sure it's about video games.  What else is going on.  Crap and crap.  Jeez.  Philosophy Class first summer session.  Non Fiction Writing class second.  How can you have your pudding if you haven't eaten your meat.  I came up with that, me.  Just now.  Seems kind of weird, but, hey, I don't make the rules.  What rules.  You rules.  Hey, thanks!  Shut up you moron.  I was talking to me.  Yes, we get it.  We all get it.
    Last paragraph!  We did it almost!  Only the third entry of the month through ten days.  That's not too bad.  Seems pretty much appropriate.  I just noticed the other day that when I'm on my bed, the mattress depresses more than it used to.  Because of Fat.  It makes sense.  Still, was kinda disconcerting.  That's how I feel.  What else and crap.  Met game tonight.  Freakshow tomorrow probably.  The Rap Game II some time in 2019.  Got a lot on my plate, that's all I'm trying to say.  If on the first day of Non Fiction Workshop, the professor goes, Okay, We're Gonna Focus On Comedy Blogs... I wouldn't feel great.  I'm too far into this game to start second guessing my method.  That would only lead to negatives.  And, if he says anything else... Whatta waste of my time.  See ya later.

-6:20 P.M.  


P.S. -- I guess gravediggers work at night.  Still not happy about the whole situation, though.


Thursday, May 5, 2016

Let's Go To The Phones

    Hey friends and whatnot.  Sentence Assignment due on Tuesday.  I'm feelin' pretty confident about, "Not Guilty!"  It is pretty much the best.  The good news is what else is going on.  Pretty sure my Mom thinks I'm doing drugs.  She cleaned up my room today and one of the Ground Pellets was left squarely on my Table.  How could she possibly understand that in actuality it's just a Ground Pellet.  Either way, she didn't bring it up.  Maybe she saw it and went, Eh, probably a ground pellet.  That must be what happened.  Anyway, what the what.  Anyway, today is 2/3rds of the phone number in movies.  Oh yeah, and Cinco de Mayo.  But more importantly, almost a fake movie number.  I feel obligated to share with you this rap that Grover Cleveland busted way back when in American History-- "My name is Grover Cleveland, And I ain't from Ohio, Gettin' girlies numbers on Cinco De Mayo."  That's History for ya.  It's especially relevant because Cinco De Mayo is 2/3rds Fake Movie Number.  These numbers he's getting are all bullshit.  He's got no game, despite all his rapping bravado.
    Anyway, Hi!  WHAT WAS THIS GROUND PELLET I FOUND IN YOUR ROOM?  ARE YOU ON GROUND PELLETS?  Anyway.  Finding things on the ground is a recurring theme of this website.  Ground pellets, bananas...  I guess just two things.  Two things a theme does not make I guess.  Anyway, what else.  Donde Esta La Biblioteca.  That's the main thing they teach you to say in Spanish in school.  Which is great, because you know all those times you're in a foreign land, your main concern is gonna be getting to the library.  Priority number one.  Comedy.  Anyway.  Maybe the Ground Pellet was there before she partially cleaned up my room.  That would be a load off my back.  If only I could get to the Biblioteca, the Librarianino could translate for me.  What else is going on.  I think it would be funny if the new Ghostbusters turned out to be a shot-by-shot remake of the original.  Not funny, per say.  Enjoyable from a distance, let's say that.
    Crap, this is only the third paragraph?  I've written so much, though.  That's no good.  Three more classes this semester.  That's alright.  Several more paragraphs this entry.  That's no good.  I'm having reservations about watching Mr. Show with my Mom.  That's like having sex with your Mom watching.  Because Mr. Show is Sex.  Anyway, what else and crap.  I had to share my e-mail with a classmate, mankindguy@gmail.com, and he started talking some crap about Oh, an E.E. Cummings reference!  And I was like, Nope, a Professional Wrestler Reference.  Then he lost respect for me at an astounding rate of half a second.  Where does he get off, knowing smart stuff and crap.  Makin' the rest of us look foolish.  He was the one who wrote the Choose Your Own Adventure.  Redeemed! Except not in that order.  You can't redeem yourself before you do the thing that needs redeeming.  That's just basic knowledge.
    Anyway, crap and crap.  Then someone else I had to share my e-mail with was like, Yeah, I know Mankind!  And I was like, Yeah, stuff it, I don't need your pity.  That's how class goes I guess.  What else and crap.  I told them it was from fifteen years ago, to qualify why I had a wrestler in my e-mail.  Then I realized they were born roughly almost fifteen years ago.  Anyway.  Way back when, shoulda gone with BigPoppaPumpPerson@Aol.com.  That's how I feel.  I feel like I could get away with a five paragraph entry today on account of the lengthiness of the paragraphs.  Anyway.  When your foot falls asleep, what does it dream of?  And lose your respect for me in five... four... three...  Seems like too long of a time to lose your respect.  You must have lost it right when the sentence is over.  You don't have time to keep respecting me on the off chance the next sentence has me redeeming myself.  That's no good.
    Crap and crap!  I stick with that e-mail because it's like someone saying about me, "Man, Kind Guy."  That's me.  Mr. Kindness.  And also a Guy.  Last I checked.  Also, Man is an appropriate and congenial, I guess it's like a swear word?  You swear by it.  It's an exp... excl.... one of these things.  Let me figure it out.  Exclamation?  Sort of an exclamation.  That might be what I'm trying to say.  Or it might not be.  I could care less.  Because I care so much.  Anyway, crap and crap.  Half of my shirts are at least somewhat about politics.  My Brother, who works for Nyperg, has all sort of shirts about Fracking and Voting and all that nonsense.  ANd now I have a Bernwald Sanderson shirt.  And I have an Obama shirt that doesn't fit me anymore.  Political Commentary!  No it isn't.  But you could imagine what it'd be like if it was, though, right?
You have a good imagination.  You imagine this is worth the time it takes to read.  A+ Imagination!  Anyway.  I can't watch Mr. Show with my Brother.  It's like my Brother watching me have sex.  I can't watch Mr. Show with a girl.  That'd be like having a threesome.  Why can't I do that.  Choose your own adventure.  What else and crap.  Sometimes I think about it and it's really cool that we have a Moon.  Without a Moon, all this would go to putt.  Earth's no good without a Moon.  Huh?  Anyway, what else and bullshit.  I keep digitally signing my name for petitions from Bernie Sanderwald and Barackathon Obamastein.  Figure as long as it's legit-ly them, they wouldn't steer me wrong.  Probably not, at least. 
    What else.  This is the seventh paragraph.  Almost at ten!  Just a bunch more paragraphs to go.  It's gonna be tough for Trump to pick a VP candidate.  People in the establishment won't want that job.  People outside the establishment can't help him win.  It's a really conundrumum.  I can't wait till Bernie or Hillary pick a VP.  Someone new to get all excited about.  I hope it's Obama!  That's probably legal one would imagine.  My Teacher spoke to the U.N. yesterday.  That's pretty impressive.  I couldn't speak at the U.N. even if I wanted to.  They wouldn't have me.  I'd be, "Wasting their time," and, "Making everyone in the room dumber for listening to me."  Do those quotes imply I've conversed with The U.N. about possibly speaking there?  Sure, why not.
    My favorite bullshit comment to say when commentating on other stories, when I didn't really grasp what the plot was or anything about it, is, I like how it has an implied sense of humor.  Surprisingly correct in the majority of cases.  Why wouldn't it, these kids wanna keep up with the Implied Sense of Humor Master-- Me.  That's how I feel for some reason.  It was a few sentences.  That's good.  Anyway, this is the point of no return.  If I wanna come up with a legit "best sentence," in the way that she's probably expecting, I got this weekend to do it.  Then we fall back to plan B-- "Not Guilty!"  The more I say it the more I feel like it's pretty strong.  There's just that moment, assuming she or they get it at all, that they don't get it.  Then when they finally get it, the most appropriate reaction is, What a Retard. 
    I'll take it. Being a Retard isn't so bad.  It has an implied sense of humor that I can really get behind.  Anyway.  I'll watch some Mr. Show with my Mom.  Who cares.  What else and crap.  Two paragraphs to go.  Jeez.  Maybe my Teacher can be Vice President.  She's got the chops.  Anyway.  And I had an old teacher who was friends with the person who did Lamb Chop.  She's got the Chops, too, I guess.  That was Kindergarten.  Where I learned to be a Man, Kind Guy.  What do you mean it's German?  I don't Hablo German.  The good news is I'm almost done.  With life, with the entry, with being stupid, take your pick. 
    Last paragraphizzle.  Whattado with my weekend.  So far I've narrowed it down to either Nothing or Some Other Way Of Accomplishing Nothing.  Can't decide just yet.  I'll see ya later.

-5:45 P.M.          


Tuesday, May 3, 2016

You Can Call Me Mothra

    Started out as a potential tweet!  It woulda been, When I have kids, I'm gonna make them call their mother Mothra, and call me... then I blanked out for thirty minutes and thought Papyrus?  Is that any good?  There's no Mothra-counterpart that has syllables that a kid might call their father.  Then I realized I didn't care anymore and went on with my busy, busy day.  FrontPage doesn't recognize Mothra as a word.  If only.  If only we lived in a universe where Mothra wasn't a thing.  All the destruction Mothra has called.  It's sobering just to even conceive of it.  There's another tweet I decided against.  The word, "Conceive," reminded me.  You'll find out why soon.  I used to have phantom phone vibrations in my pocket when I was younger.  This was when it was still conceivable someone might be calling me.  Too clunky for a tweet.  Crazysheet, though?  The more bullcrap the better.
    Great!  I bragged about my tweeting in class.  What did we do over the Spring Break.  Well, I'll tell you how I spent the last two weeks that I had all to myself-- put stupid sentences on the internet!  Life Well Lived.  Anyway.  My next class is Intro II Philosophy.  That's no good.  Probably a lot of work.  And I don't get to hand in four pages of jokes twice a semester.  Unless I think of some Philosophy jokes.  Note to self: Google Philosophy Jokes.  Yeesh.  I like that philosopher who went, I Think, Therefore, I Am.  Right?  That's Gotta Be a Thing, Right?  Humbled it up a little bit.  Anyway. Here's another bullshit tweet I'm not gonna bother with.  I count my blessings every day that I've never been on in a Speed-Type Scenario on a bus.  Why.  Who knows.  Crap and crap.  That's right.  After years of crap and crap this is the logical way it goes.  At least it doesn't end up in a Speed-Type Scenario.
I don't know.  I haven't written an entry in a while.  Hey, it's May!  May the third be with you.  No way is there ever gonna be a date that that's more relative than today.  Certainly not tomorrow.  Nope, definitely not.  Anyway, crap and crap.  Another tweet I eliminated from tweeting half a second after I thought of it, yesterday-- "My height is the same as the date."  I don't need to say that.  It'd be stupid.  Anyway.  I thought of some plot holes in superhero movies recently.  I can't remember any of them.  Oh, right.  The X-Man who can move really fast.  Does he exist in time like we do, and just can perform an action really fast, but being conscious as the same speed as us?  Or is he really living in really slow motion and that's why he does everything fast to us, but to him, he's really going through the motions.  If it's the second one, man, what a bummer.
    Issues these are, of the real type variety.  You would think, logically, it'd have to be the second one.  In our understanding of the universe, the first one is more palitable.  But, let's be real, scientifically speaking, it's the second one.  Where am I.  What am I doing.  Who are you.  Crap and crap.  My Mom was talking to me about Wilmore's speech on Saturday and used the N-word in completion and I was like, Woah, Woah, Woah.  I don't want to hear you say that.  If we're using the word, the least we can do is take out the, "Er," and use an, "A."  That I can live with.  Or we can just not use the word.  Yet again, I vote for option B.  Anyway, crap and crap.  Where am I again.  Still here. Crap and bullshit.  I gotta say, the hospital I go to twice a month for therapy visits and blood tests, they got some good music now in the waiting rooms.  For years an years, it was just the same three Elevator-Music songs on a loop.  Now they got classic rock.  It's a real joy, I say.  Also, they advertised during the Super Bowl!  We're talking Taco Bell level promotional campaign.
If they wanted to, could a billionaire just spend three hundred million dollars buying up all the ads during the Superbowl?  Seems like it would be a fun way to throw away your money.  Either that, or donate to John Kasich.  Zing'd 'Em.  Now that it's a new month, and been a while since last entry, aybe I can get in a groove of not having to write fifteen paragraphs a day.  Today is the first day of the rest of my life of only writing five or ten paragraphs a day.  Freedom has never tasted so sweet.  What else.  I think it's great the Hospitals spend money on commercials.  You know, I wasn't feeling any illness or anything, but I guess I can go to a hospital right about now.  Thanks a lot RomneyCare.  Anyway.  Today is the Indiana Primary.  More commonly known as The day we can probably stop caring about this crap for maybe four or five months.  I guess. 
Bullcrap and shiznat.  Apparently Mr. Show is on HBO Go.  Now I get to introduce it to my Mother.  Provided she can go a half hour with spouting a barrage of racial slurs.  If that's the way it's gonna be, I'm gonna stay upstairs in my room!  Zero tolerance for bigotry.  Zero.  Maybe even my Dad'll be exposed to some of it.  He loves a good laugh.  He inspired me with humor from an early age.  When he used to bathe me, he would make up stories and then during the stories make up fake commercials.  Liked it then, love it now.  That's a Papyrus one can be proud of.  Anyway.  I like the idea that I'm doing all these great Tweets and I have three or four followers.  Such a concentrated audience.  I can tailor my Tweets specifically for them.  Hey, you know what it's like being related to me, right?  Get aload of this!
I guess.  Tomorrow is Studio 54.  Which is a thing a Movie told me.  I wanna say a Disco.  Apparently Hillary Clinton is money laundering with political donations or something.  Sure, the Woman Candidate is laundering.  Where do you get off.  Where does she get off.  Where do we all get off.  I don't know, what else and crap.  First she's gonna say she voted for money laundering before she voted against it!  Not sure what that accomplishes.  The good news is this is the seventh paragraph.  The interesting thing is, though, she only got .79 cents to the dollar of the money she laundered.  Comedy!  Crap and crap.  Stupid Philosophy Class.  I can't act like a goofball jerkoff in a philosophy class.  That sort of thing is frowned upon.  I workshopped a story today that was a Choose Your Own Adventure.  Of course.  I got through two pages liking it, it was funny and relatable and great, and then I got to the first Adventure Choosing, and I was like, Of course.  Of course it's a choose your own adventure.  Brilliant.  If he can write a choose your own adventure for a story, no reason I can't write, Not Guilty! for the best sentence we've ever written assignment.
    That's my take away from it.  I can't add at the bottom of the page, It's A Pun. I'm counting on her to figure that out for herself.  Which may or may not take more attention than she is prepared to give.  Anyway, what else.  Workshopping a Choose One's Own Adventure Story, though, I have to read it all the way through, like a Chump.  I'm not here to have fun, I'm here to be a reliable and responsible and thoughtful audience.  All the way through it goes.  Anyway.  The Teacher didn't know what Choose Your Own Adventures were.  I had to explain it cause the author can't talk during his workshop.  Looks like the student has become the guy who explain something to the teacher on the odd occasion.  I don't know.  I might end up writing fifteen paragraphs.  I got some time to kill before the Metropolitans game.
Great.  What else.  Too bad I couldn't have said I worked on music over the Spring Break.  Then she could have been like,  Really, what music, can I listen to it, and give you money and praise for it?  But I didn't.  And that kind of reaction is a little overblown for some twenty odd tweets.  I find it interesting that I wrote over a hundred songs in 2014-Early 2015 and don't have a clue on how to play even one of them.  And they're all mediocre at best guitarwise, nothing complicated.  Just some chords that escape my grasp.  Anyway, oh well.  These things happen.  The good news is eventually I'll find someone who will be remotely intersted in this.  All we have to do now is play the waiting game.  I love that game!
Almost as good as the doing-stuff-to-see-something-to-fruition game.  That's a pretty fun game.  Anyway.  I had to give a Urine Sample yesterday.  Now's My Time To Shine.  Great.  What else.  I like Urinetown.  Yer In Town, You see Urinetown.  I'm hip to their jive.  Got started on a new palindrome.  So far all I has is Emit Time.  Getting started is the hardest part, though, right?  I'll keep you updated on how this situation progresses.  I was looking at something on Google that's supposed to be the World's Longest Palindrome, but a good 90% of it isn't words.  Where do they get off with that bullshit.
    Eleventh Paragraph!  Now we're talking.  Well, typing.  And not us, just me.  You're reading presumably.  I don't know.  Stupid No Class That Involves Creative Writing.  What am I supposed to get gratification from.  I don't know.  Just.  Don't.  Know.  Anyway, Hi!  A little Inside The Bloggers Studio 54 here-- Just spaced out for twenty minutes.  The good news is I'm here and back on track for doing this for fifteen paragraphs for some reason!  You know what that maens.  Only four more paragraphs after this one.  There's the ultimate, the penultimate, the prepenultimate and the somewhatgettingclosetoultimate.  That's how I feel and whatnot.  How come no one cares about their penultimate words.  Forget Last Words, I wanna see some Penultimate Words.  That would be real interesting.
    Okay.  Hi.  Still here.  I guess Dinner is on deck, for after this entry.  So many choices.  Gotta narrow it down to one.  Last night I was thinking about getting Nathans from Queens College and bringing it home to eat later.  Today I decided not to because iI ain't got time for that crap.  Also, it would be hard to choose.  Fish sandwich or chicken sandwich.  Hot dog or French fries.  Credit Card or Cash.  I can't handle all that.  I don't know.  Anyway, what the what.  There's a Nathans near my house, but it's a combo Subway/Nathans, and I've been in there dozens of times, no one is ever manning the Nathans section.  Don't know quite what to make of that.
    I guess three more paragraphs.  I can get there at this rate of bullshit short paragraphs.  Man, I wish I was May Third tall.  It would cut my difference in height from the average woman by half!  That's how I feel.  I feel kind of cheated that I didn't come of age in an era where there were cigarette vending machines.  When I was a young child we used to go to a supermarket and my Mom would get vending machine cigarettes.  I think.  Coulda been lotto tickets.  I feel like they had both, though.  That's my story, and I'll stick to it if I have to in a court of law and somewhat.  Or I'll just plead ignorance.  I believe that's the 38th amendment.  You have the right to plead ignorance wherever you want to.  And I want to Everywhere and All The Time.
    Okay.  Penultimate paragraph time.  Gotta make it count.  I've always had a fondness for ignorance.  Unintelligence, that's bad, you're at fault there.  Ignorance?  You just don't know about that thing in particular.  That's not so bad.  We can't all know everything.  You just ignore it.  That's it.  Probably where the word comes from.  You ignore that subject.  Makes sense.  I don't know.  Why is this fifteen paragraphs.  Seems like the kind of quality you'd be okay with spending ten seconds for.  This much is pretty much crap.  What else, what else...  I like looking at Super Nintendo and Nintendo 64 games on Wikipedia.  Hey, I remember that picture on the game cartrige!  How could I forget!  Some of my favorite games got mixed reviews, though.  What do they know.  Ken Griffey Jr. Presents Major League Baseball had hour upon hour upon hours of re-playing value.
Good news is, last paragraph.  We're just about there.  The appropriate response to my Sentence Assignment is Pun.  Great.  All you need, two words.  What else and crap.  Maybe It's Punderful if you wanna give praise.  I don't know.  Time to close it up.  Some more sentences.  That'll do the trick.  Let's see.  Four months.  That's September.  That's a fair time to start getting invested again, right?  In the mean time we can talk about, I don't know, what.  Who knows.  Gotta be something.  One would imagine.  Either way, crap and crap.  Don't mean to brag, but the pressure of my urine stream has gone up recently.  It's like I'm a kid again!  That's part of being a kid, right?  Impressive urine stream?  Probably.  I'll see ya later.

-5:33 P.M.