By now, I think I’ve stressed how cripplingly lazy I am. I can also be remarkably anal. Very strange combination. I imagine I’m a hard person to judge, and I know I’m a hard person to live with, because you can’t be sure who I’ll be that day. If there’s nothing really pressing for me to do or if I’m just not feeling up to, you know, any kind of accomplishment whatsoever, then I’m sloth incarnate. But if I’ve got something I’m determined to do or—God help you—a list of things, then any tiny interruption makes me a miserable bastard. (Truly, there are innumerable things that make my grumpy. Just ask Sarah. For brevity’s sake, we’ll save the full list for another time.) I bring all this up only to say that today was a good day, in that, I had a list of tasks and I finished every task and then some. Got to the gym for the first time in three generations of McLeans, finished some stuff for work, picked up a wireless router, watched The Manchurian Candidate remake (more on that later, for now let’s just say meh), read about a quarter of American Gods, and actually wrote an entry. (Also: fought a little crime. And that wasn’t even on the list!)
What else? I like rum. Rum is the new beer; you heard it here first. I hated rum when I was a kid, and it held over into early adulthood. This is because it was my mom’s drink, and there were three or four instances back when I was wee where I mistook my glass of coke for her rum and coke. And I don’t care where you’re from—rum tastes like Satan’s asshole when you’re a kid.
I should also mention that, yes, I have read your blog, but I’ve only been a dirty lurker these days. Soon I’ll return and plague you with comments. I’ll write a blog within your blog even. Unless Jorge has a patent on that.
What else? I like rum. Rum is the new beer; you heard it here first. I hated rum when I was a kid, and it held over into early adulthood. This is because it was my mom’s drink, and there were three or four instances back when I was wee where I mistook my glass of coke for her rum and coke. And I don’t care where you’re from—rum tastes like Satan’s asshole when you’re a kid.
I should also mention that, yes, I have read your blog, but I’ve only been a dirty lurker these days. Soon I’ll return and plague you with comments. I’ll write a blog within your blog even. Unless Jorge has a patent on that.
Comments
I do have a patent on that. But considering you are the co-sharer of that patent, you can do whatever the hell you want.
Get to your blog when you get to your blog. In the mean time, I will steal all your fans, and meet them. And when I meet them and lie to them about how much you suck, don't come crying to me.
Love,
Your Manservant,
Jorge
PS: When did Satan pay you for a rim job? Or is it still free? So much for fringe benefits
Jorge: you are officially the Kyle Thomson of bloggers.