Testing

This new blog app seems nice. Perhaps I will use it to make blogs.

Often Forgotten Blog

I only really remember that I have a blog is when I should be doing other things.

Like right now, for instance.

I really should be studying for tomorrow's test, but I find myself mindlessly entering text into an empty box a corner of the internet that's usually fabulously unimportant to me.

I'll forget about this blog tomorrow, and for that I apologize.

Owl City and Skittles

Today Facebook suggested that I become a fan of Skittles. Apparently if you're a fan of Owl City, it's assumed that you also gorge yourself on sugary-sweet candies.

I can't help but wonder if Adam Young would be proud of this.

Epitome of Twilight

I'm not being hyperbolic when I say that I am completely dumbfounded by the success of the Twilight series.

This is a series of plot-less books that has been obsessively consumed by illiterate teenagers on scale so impressive that it can only be described as cultish. All the while, Twilight is simply a supermarket romance novel dressed up as Sci-Fi fantasy - and poorly dressed at that.

I just want one member of the female gender to admit to me that the only reason they find Twilight to be enjoyable is because, for once, the men are the ones running around half naked.

Congratulations teenage girls, you've discovered pornography.

Swanky

Today I'm proposing a new definition for the word "Swanky" based on the career of Hilary Swank.

swank⋅y
–adjective, swank⋅i⋅er, swank⋅i⋅est
1 : Talentless and yet award winning (See: Peter Jackson)

On Parents and Cell Phones

When I become a highly respected academic scholar, I'm planning to offer a class that will educate mothers on how to operate their cellular telephones. The cost of enrollment will be $10,000 per head and we will maintain a strict no-refund policy. This may seem a little steep, but I feel like children would be willing to pay any amount if it meant that they wouldn't have to deal with the level frustration that comes with parental cell phone ownership.

And, even though she doesn't know it, my mother is already signed up for the first semester.

Neighborhood Noises

My neighbors are screaming at each other again. "I'll fucking kill you" is this evening's motto and, from the sound of his voice, he means it. I'm straining to eavesdrop, but their conversation is suffocated by a passing train. I can hear a nearby basketball game though. A car door opens then closes. An engine. An airplane. An ice cream truck. Tires squeal. A gunshot. Someone is cutting up a body with a band saw. A rocket ship. A coffee grinder. A pair of dogs have captured and killed a small child. A boombox. A science fiction ray gun. Laughter. And whatever the opposite of laughter happens to be.

All of these things exist inside of my head, but they may also exist in the reality just outside of my window. I could poke my head outside, but my neighborhood would suddenly become somewhat less interesting.

Besides, they're obviously enjoying their privacy.