Dear shower,
If you were animate, I would probably have little to no need to write with regards to you. However, this is not the case. You are broken, henceforth forcing me to have baths on a far-too-regular basis. I hate baths, I get edgy after about fourteen seconds. They're far too small for a reasonably sized human being and are rarely the right temperature. Even when I actually get the temperature perfect, Isaac's second law of thermodynamics fucks me over and makes it a bit too cold - and henceforth uncomfortable. So, dearest shower, please stop being so fucking broken and sort your shit out.
Yours in anticipation,
Ben. xxx
On a life-related note, today and probably tomorrow are my social recuperation time after being with other people for far too high a proportion of the last few days. However, Tuesday shall be eventful; what with an event occurring. Should be a fine day.
I just had to delete one of the most boring paragraphs of text written since the Harry Potter series was finished.
Those books are far more popular than they deserve to be.
I may go and watch some crap Kung-Fu films. Got an urging for them of recent.
That was an odd way to phrase that sentence. I'm sure you'll survive the experiance and continue reading.
At some point you may realise that each successive paragraph has decreasing relevance to anything, and will henceforth give up reading and carry on doing something else.
Why I'm still typing is beyond me. I could do something else.
Although, I feel it amusing to carry on and see how much I can type without getting in the least bit bored.
Surely you're getting bored of reading this by now? Ah well, I'll assume you're absolutely enthralled by the sound of my voice that you imagine whilst reading this.
I realise that you didn't do that before, but you probably will for this sentence.
Try reading this next sentence in Arnold Schwarzenegger's voice.
These pink pantaloons are of insufficient size.
Wasn't that fun? There should be some form of theme-park with similar recreational activities.
I'm not sure what recreational means, but I have a reckoning that that made sense.
Why, by any sane and reasonable logic, is there a tree outside resembling a smallish palm tree?
Life goes on. Which reminds me, something that made me laugh in Catch 22: "I plan to live forever, or die trying."
Seems like a good book so far.
I imagine my readers have whittled down to an elite few who have absolutely, completely, and cataclysmally fuck all to do. Hi Conor.
No comments:
Post a Comment