//Thanks for checking this out. A gift, below.
Firstly, I would like to thank you for reading this. You are probably my friend and a good one who wants to be supportive, or a good one who is too afraid to tell me I should just get a real job. Maybe you are a muscular someone, the moonlight is glistening off your olive skin while you caress a single displaced hair off my cheek, and maybe (just maybe) that moment between us will have felt like an eternity. Whichever person you are, thank you. I know it’s not easy watching someone spiral into writing a blog (and THEN asking you to read it.) But you’re a good friend remember. (and if you are not please call me back, God I miss your lush but powerful embrace.) So I guess to explain myself, this blog is an attempt at giving myself another creative outlet geared toward my goal of being a comedy writer. If this is the first you’re hearing of this, then you probably aren’t a good friend and you should certainly call me back. (see above for description.)
So what’s the point of you reading this? Well firstly, I hope its funny. Even in like a “lets-just-encourage-him-because-we-know-he’s-bad-at-it-way-and-watching-him-fail-will-be-fun-for-us” way. Which is malicious, but I would respect it. Secondly, if you don’t read this blog I will kill us both. (I will find out if you did or didn’t with subtle quizzing in our regular conversation) So welcome to being a regular reader! I hope to continue to provide you with engaging bullshit to be read between sets at the gym, or on a train, or in bed! Maybe some of it will be insightful for you, (maybe some of it will be so insightful you will meet me on a moonlit beach, your muscles rippling as you approach and you won’t ever call me back etc.) Reading is boring though! So who cares. Just skim it if you want, I don’t care (outwardly.)
So the gift portion of this article is in the form of the image above. I had it on my camera roll and I don’t entirely know why because it’s not my tire. But that tire is absolutely shredded and if you need an excuse to be late to something please crop that image. Use it at your convenience. It’s yours! To conclude, I have now thanked you, threatened you and encouraged you to lie (fun fact: I work with kids.) In this instance I do condone lying. Because I think it is absolutely asinine that we are demanded to show up on time if at all to certain things. Here is a list of things I think we should be allowed to be late to: class, work, therapy, romance novel book club and a briss. The concept of excused and unexcused absences in school always confused me. It never felt as though what I was doing really demanded an excuse. Consider the term, inexcusable. I have provided a short list of things we consider as inexcusable: Murder, Racism, My birthday…? So take the tire image. Be late to your nephew’s briss and sneak in the back and eat all the free snacks they leave back there. After helping yourself to a seemingly endless bowl of calamari, maybe consider to keep reading (or else.)
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