Here we go, true believers, things are rocketing…um, they’re crack-rocketing…shmeah.
Who cares really?
Ya know, I try to get excited about things like Bon Jovi, and pudding, and big tires, the stuff that usually gets my butter churning, gets the blog machine rolling, but damn if a fella don’t find himself museless of an evening.
Maybe it’s because I’m too sober.
Uh, npoe, tahsat not ti….notit….
Nothing! Positive visualization, check. Inspiring music (manheim steamroller’s hannukah album), check. Jar of bathtub hooch? Check. Any movie starring the Rock as a reward for finished blog? Check and check.
I just, I guess I’m just burned out, really. Where is my employee of the month plaque? Where’s my commemorative precious moments figurine? I sit here, every…month(?) typing away into the next morning’s hangover, packing syllables with my joi de vivre, stuffin panache between the punctuation, and what do I get? Does anybody stop by and say, “Hey Matty Boom Boom, is this your pop tart?” No. It’s just, screaming my pungent presence into the digital void for its own sake just isn’t cutting it folks.
I’m out. I’m done.
Hello. This is Leviticus Tupac O’Reilly. I have found Mr. Boom’s laptop, which it seems to be sitting on the table for an hour. He is not here. Maybe I should finish the blog.
He sometimes says “Sneetch” at the end. So Sneetch.
He also sometimes says something about my mom. So my mom is a fat lady. Sneetch again.
Hold it! Hold everything! That’s it! Thanks hot lips (it’s Matty at bat again), you’ve taught me the true meaning of blogging! It’s not about getting recognition, or praise, or acknowledgment, or drunk. No! It’s about ripping on yer mom! It’s about pointlessly fostering hatred for the decent people of Tonga (those pineapple eating bastards)!
I was lost, but now am found.
Like the box of pizza rolls yer mom was eating last week.
until next time, I remain of little nutritional value