I guess it's not technically "writing" anymore is it? It's typing. Maybe I'm "composing" a blog entry. But I don't feel I'm "writing". To me, if I were writing, I would be picking up a pen or pencil or other such instrument and scratching away along a piece of paper and no one would be able to read my illegible handwriting scrawled across the page.
And you wouldn't be reading my random thoughts passing through my brain right now.
I love technology!
I sit here right now enjoying my Spring Mix and spinach salad that I bought from a bag at Albertson's since I apparently only kill plants. My chicken boob is sitting there on a plate glaring at me for making it wait so darn long for me to consume. And your reading a bunch of bull at the moment.
Geez! How much time can you waste, people?
Oh, right. We're addicted to anything on the Internet and can't pull ourselves away.
So, to my point: I need some help coming up with topics to discuss. PLEASE HELP!
Or, you can just suffer through more posts such as this one where there is NOTHING remotely interesting being discuss.
With that threat, I leave you with a little parting gift that I usually save for Facebook. Bad Boy currently has a cast on his left arm that goes from the palm of his hand all the way to nearly the armpit. I now have to cut his food, too, along with two of my other children's meals. This conversation took place while he was observing me cutting his chicken boob while leaving the mushrooms intact.
Bad Boy, "What?! You feel you need to cut it up into kid-size bites?!"
Me, "Yes, because it's the number one cause of death in the elderly."
Maybe now he'll think twice about talking smack to me again.
Doubtful.
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