Blogs are, in case you were wondering because were raised by cheetahs as one of their own for your entire life (I’m looking at you, Hussein Bolt), like journals on the Internet: things that you pay detailed attention to for approximately two weeks to three months, depending on your attention span, then ignore for three more months until you find it all dusty under your bed, but it’s totally okay because nobody read it but you anyways.
I’m practically a professional blogger. The amount of times I’ve redesigned, reorganized, and rewritten this same blog just to abandon it recklessly later is astounding. If you’ve never been here before then you should know that this is, by no means, a new blogger making a new blog. This is not a promising young artist painting a new modern art piece. No, this is more like that hobo you see downtown outside the pancake house every day making 35 copies of the same painting of outer space for $15 a pop.
One time this blog died and I replaced it with another beta fish of the exact same color and you never even noticed. 1 That’s how good at blogging I am.
So what is this blog? It’s a humor blog, I’ll go ahead and say it. But it’s only going to be found funny by three people. Not three types of people, mind you, three people total:
- Me, but only after 3:00 AM.
- Someone in Antarctica who doesn’t have Internet access and will never get the chance to actually read any of this, but I swear he’d find it hilarious.
- My aunt, Lois.
Part of the reason that I’m so good at blogging is because I only have a max of what, five stories to tell? Not even five interesting stories or five funny stories, just five stories period. So if you want to hear five stories about an uninteresting young man who occasionally pees in graduated cylinders because Science told him to (and I’m not talking about Tom Cruise!), come back here every 6 months or so and you’ll get to read them over and over, retold slightly differently every time.
Footnotes:
- Where in the world did this metaphor come from? It’s not like it’s jarringly unrelated to the metaphor a sentence earlier.
Zackapalooza! 