Not sure i have anything to say...

... but I see you all. This whole blogging business was to have been therapeutic, or so I was told by more than one of you, and now I feel this pressure, this unforgiving pressure to post every single day.

So, I am posting but I'm not sure I have anything to say. So I am literally going to say exactly what comes into my head, and not be too concerned about it making sense... kinda like Larry Munson's "Insight on Sports" without the growl, or like shower-sitter Ellen S. all the time, minus the boobs.

I found out that someone I really think is cute is Jewish, and that made me smile. What made me smile more was when I saw her eat a piece of pepperoni off of a pizza. Birth control is a mind-boggling thing for me. I don't take it, it just really screws with my head. I was busted text messaging someone at the game tonight by the person running event management. Guess how he busted me... he text messaged me "Hi from the scorer's table."

(Inserting new paragraph just because)

If Spike hugs me one more time I'm going to take off my pants and hump his leg. Beer should taste better than it does. Everyone should see Napoleon Dynamite and believe in it. I am going to start wearing yellow and green more often. I am tired of living by myself. I want a job that does not require me to wear a tie, but encourages me to wear clothes. Everytime I think about the fact that my mother thinks the word "license" is plural, I laugh, and sometimes I belly laugh.

"Honesty (everybody sing) is such a lonely word." Although I don't know that everything that isn't honest is necessarily dishonest. Just as there is a difference between not being sure and being "unsure." One day, computers are going to be very important. Can you believe we're talking about terabytes now? If most of the people I know have a blog and can respond to mine or IM me on a regular basis, does that mean we can't hang out? If we do, what ever are we going to talk about?

I think I might start telling girls I have crush on them, and when they say "Really," I'll say, "Nah, i'z just messin' wif ya." Apple and Comcast have a brilliant marketing thing going, independent of each other. I'm concerned that IM language shortcuts might ruin the written word. ;-) I'm not watching TV anymore and I'm not sure why, but I feel behind. I met someone yesterday who is taking Noassitol.

I got my hair buzzed yesterday and it looks remarkably mediocre... whelming at best. Bad habit of late... getting out of the shower, putting my clothes on, getting online, then realizing I haven't shaved. I am finding out that I have some pretty serious Pavlovian reactions to certain sounds. I wonder if there is a cool part of town in Nashville where you can sit and have a nice cup of coffee and just enjoy being with someone you care about like there is in Athens, complete with cool small town scenery.

A girl of whom I am very fond said the following to me by IM yesterday: "You're different." I asked how. She said, "I don't know, but you are." I think that's good, and wish it was good enough. Did you ever check your email, knowing good and well that the email you wanted to be there wasn't going to be? I am getting tired of people asking me if I will remember them when I'm famous. So please pass along to everyone that I'm not going to be famous unless my kid falls into a well or I am wrongly accused of a crime that grabs the attention of local news and a DA with an itchy trigger finger and political ambitions. Run-on sentences suck. Also sentences with no verb.

I have finally realized that my habit of watching the last 10 laps of a NASCAR race with the sound down and John Adams' "Short Ride in a Fast Machine" blaring is just flat-out retarded. I look forward to continuing that. I dreamed that Loretta Lynn had brain cancer, and I'm really glad she doesn't. I have been getting mad at several of my friends lately because of things they have done in my dreams. The solution? Stop taking advantage of me in my dreams.

And lastly, one of my favorite people of all time gave me this quote the other day: "Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, margarita in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming--'WOOHOO what a ride!'" That's why she's that.

Perhaps I will make more sense tomorrow.