I got to see a really awesome debate today. Yes, I know, my terrible secret comes out. I like debating, I love economics, and Star Trek is my comfort food (but for the telly). I guess this means I’m a nerd or something. Anyway: debate. The 1% is killing the American Dream. I don’t think that this topic was handled as well as it should have been. The two sides didn’t really address each other. It was still entertaining, but in the end I didn’t vote on the issue so much as I voted on the better debate team. Then after debate I went to a bakery and the gym. I like the gym just for the endorphins I get afterwards. And of course, no day is complete without some chaotic element which brings me to diner. In an attempt to feed my Italian cravings I made lasagna. Or I would have if I had not broken the lasagna pan, a mason jar, and spilled red punch in the process. Yes, that is exactly what it would like if I horrifically murdered Mr. Body (because the lead pipe is so mainstream). Thank you Flying Spaghetti Monster God for reaching out your noodly appendage to grant my humble small slushy town with an Olive Garden. Seriously, this is news.
I have to write a story for my Creative Writing class due on Tuesday, and I am freaking out. I think I may have to resort to real life, because let’s face it: Reality exists merely to contradict it’s self on a daily basis by spontaneously erupting into bursts of randomly weird things.
If you have any ideas, feel free to share. As always, you can email me at: email@example.com
The camel considered, albeit briefly, the ramifications of his latest plot. A week in the stables for scaring the crap out of American tourists? Worth it.
April 1st came on Saturday this year, and Audrey noticed it was oddly quiet. She even checked her calendar twice.
That awkward moment when the guest in hotel room 304 calls down to the front desk asking about special movie channels.
#51: Discovering a new country.
“Jim, you’re missing the point. You don’t wear a bathing suit to pool. You were jeans and I give you a Pool Cue. Just- just- go take off those swim trunks. Did you really think the bar had a pool in the back?”
Anna Marrie Lynn’s piggy bank would not break, and all the coins she’d saved rattled inside while she tried to break it.
The camera obscura flips images, turns things around, and that was the crux of the issue. It’s hard enough when things are in black and white.
“No, I am not making this up. Absolutely the lasagna pan dropped itself.”
No, seriously guys. If you have anything to share to kick me in to writing my story I’d be much obliged. I have three half ideas right now but nothing fleshed out. Oy vey. I’ll be in the corner muttering half ideas and doing needle point because I can.
See y’all soon.