time to relax

After the my little stint in the hospital and then prison (apparently the plant I put on the bar-B wasn't entirely legal in the state of Georgia even for someone with glaucoma), I ran into my good friend Ubunto. He's a really good guy but a little wooden at parties. He told me that I needed to chill out and relax and that he had just the thing for me. It's called lax oil. He said that once Arnold Schwatz-a-something filled a ping pong ball with the oil and shoved it up his left nostril. It was reported that he never felt as relaxed in his life. Afterward though, he had a relapse of lax and went into a coma for 4 days but when he came out of it, he didn't need to go to his chiropractor for 2 weeks. Now my friend said that I should probably stick to using a half a dozen q-tips simultaneously instead of a ping pong ball and that after getting used to the soggy-nose thing that I would never go back to trepanning to relax. My friend is still wooden at parties but I think that he is more accepting of the fact when he's using lax oil.

out of hospital

Well, the peanut allergy was bad but it wasn't lethal. I really should have stopped eating them when I needed to use a pencil to push the peanuts down my swollen throat...but they were so good. The movie wasn't bad either. The people in the hospital thought I was crazy until I told them that the peanuts were salted. Yummy. But they did tell me that next time I should use the eraser end or chew the peanuts before swallowing. I'm still a bit worried about lead poisioning though. Does an HB pencil have lead in it?

I've decided that perhaps I should focus my attention on a healthier life-style. My friend Mr. B. B. Quaker told my that I should stop and smell the flowers and that you can really get a good whiff when you throw them on the bar-B.

what-the-blog is going on?

I'm over the mid-blog crisis. I talked to my blog-psychologist. I spent time with family and friends. I looked down the abyss of meaningless ASCII and found the only response that makes sense. More meaningless ASCII. More drivel. More pointless arguments. But above all, more bad writing.

Bad writing is an art form. Unfortunately, this blog has no art. This is mediocre bad writing. Nothing of note. Not even nasal drip inducing nonsense. No.

I guess I end this blog with a potentially lethal combination.

I guess this blog was doomed as soon as it was dubbed. The hour in blogtime feels like it is drawing to an end. I'm already having a mid-blog crisis--I feel like my blog has no meaning. What have I been doing with my blog? Where is my blog going? What was this "tour" all about? Did that previous me of a while ago have more insight than the bewildered me that is immobilized by the bits of ASCII?

I feel like such an ifool. I've been McLed. I've been Wal-bangered. I been StarBucked. I've been Micro-managed. I feel like the Bell tolls for me and the Cox have left me wireless. I've been incorporated.

I'm looking at the bottom of a non-franchised ceramic mug, my caffeine induced excitement has faded. There is nothing left for me. Maybe I can sneak a few packages of equal to sucker my body into getting me to my next hotspot.

AmatourHour

This first post requires a stunning yet fateful start that will be indicative of posts to come. To prepare my self for the act of spewing words forth to the uninterested hordes, I will first perform an interpretive dance that embodies constipation and a stuffed up nose.

(dance)

Since that was uninspiring, I will instead upload a picture of some ginger and a can of air. I would like to point out that the air is not hot.