Uhhh, hmm... er, well, I-I s-suppose, $Texas?
I feel like typing, because when I type, I find I can word things far more eloquently than when I try to speak things. Although, the exception to this comes in writing emails. For some strange and unknown reason, I tend to suck at writing emails. It's like I get all finger-tied. Somehow I can even manage to stammer on my keyboard. I don't know how that can even happen really. I just start to type and then all of a sudden I find myself at the end of an email that looks something like this:
Dear (Name),
Hey there. What's up? Well, I-I-I, uuhh... hm, aw jeez, and what if, goodn-n-ness gracious... I am-m, s-so s-sorry, er, I, I, sixty-four?
Um, siiiigh, it concurred to me, that, uhh... well, and then, ph-h-hilharmonics.
Please don't not write me,
(Some odd name, as I usually tend to forget my own about here.)
Yup, that was actually pretty close to what happens. In fact, that was a carbon copy of what I wrote to a friend last Tuesday. Pretty depressing. I wonder why it happens. Oh well, at least that doesn't happen here, in lovely blogland. Where no one really cares what I write, therefore granting me complete freedom from any stress or pressure that I may put on myself when people do care.
So what do you want to talk about? Well, uhh, hmm... er, and shucks, harumph... carry the one... there's thousands of 'em there.
Uh-oh, it's begun. Just kidding. I did that stuff on purpose. I had you going though, didn't I? Huh? Didn't I?
The Christmas season is in fulllllll swing. Each year it comes around with better and better stealth technology, because I don't really even notice it until the few days before the big day. But, it certainly is here. You know what it was that finally tipped me off? How angry I get when we sing Christmas carols. The fact that I am dreadfully sick of those things tells me that Christmas is really upon us. Fo' real, fo' real.
Happy Christmukkah,
Daysplen Tonador.
P.S. Don't ever watch the movie "Grind". Terrible, even with the presence of Adam Brody.
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