ho hum

If you look closely, you can almost read the procrastination between the lines.

Really, I have nothing to say, but I knew I could either do this, write my history paper due tomorrow, send a perfume soaked letter confessing my love to Tom Welling, or gouge my own eyes out with a mechanical pencil. Obviously, after surveying my options, I chose blogging. But I'll give bonus points to annyone who can guess which one came in second.

As I stare at this computer screen and realize the wit mechanism in my head didn't wake up with me, (I think it went out and got wasted last night...) my inferiority complex is starting to kick in. So, I'll return to my history before this post becomes one of those tear stained middle school journal entries where I whine about how, "Jeez, nobody gets me," and, "Jeez, he doesn't even know I'm alive," and, "Jeez, If I ran this school, no one would ever have to play 'no strikes baseball' again and everyone would wear stirrup pants and..."

But, I digress. Middle school has left my soul bitter and contorted. I guess I'll let you know how that history paper goes.

By the way, I really miss you guys. If annyone's interested in playing a game of "Who knows the most about witchcraft in the fifteenth century," Give me a call. It might help with my inferiority complex.