Party Time

Once it was snowing
And I spent the evening
Photoshopping pictures
To put on a blog
And also keeping the fire alive
And writing bad poems.

Tonight is that night
Without the snow
And without the fire
And also without the Photoshop.

So it's an evening of bad poems
And the sun has just set on it
But also I think the moon is coming up
So we'll call it a night.


I just wrote that because everything I wanted to write tonight was unoriginal. For instance, I'm getting upset that I don't see the whole picture on my regular old 3:4 ratio tube tv anymore. It looks like lots of the primetime shows are being broadcast in widescreen, so I keep seeing text and faces that are incomplete. Which is bothering me because sometimes when you're watching The Office you have to see what's happening in the periphery.

I got a digital recorder for all the great ideas I have while I'm commuting. I haven't figured out how to use it properly, or how to wire a bomb to it in case it gets stolen. But eventually I'm sure it will have a cameo in my blog. For instance, if I still can't figure it out tomorrow and end up shooting it. It's almost extinct anyway.

I hate adjectives. I started listening to a book-on-cd by David Baldacci that someone gave me and it was terrible. He has about a 12:1 adjective-to-noun ratio and it makes you want to swerve into someone.

This town gets one radio station. I have to turn it off every fourth song and start listening to Gordon Lightfoot or Fischerspooner again. Listening to the same songs over and over again is underrated.

Steel-toed boots in the dryer while you're trying to sleep are loud and destructive.

I hate the format that this post is taking. You wouldn't believe how much I've had to edit it just to make it presentable in a blog that only a few thousand people will read. I feel like Dave Barry with too many adjectives.

I just farted because that's what guys do.

I went home with a super hot girl last week and didn't make a move, and if I did I wouldn't say anything about it because it's none of your business, anonymous internet readers. We made out all night. And if I said I wasn't lying about making out with her all night, you'd know I was lying. Wait - are you reading this, Trixie?

I plan to start getting drunk when I blog because it's bound to get more exciting.

I think it's hilarious when people compare George Bush to a monkey but I think it's racist when they do the same thing to Barack Obama.

I plan to start getting drunk when I blog because it's bound to get less repetitive.

(Again with the editing)

(And again)

Man, some of you guys would be pissed to see all the things I'm cutting out of this elecronic piece of spiral-bound notebook paper. It's taking for-fucking-EVER.

The End.

Love Matt