Well, I never thought I’d ACTUALLY make one of these, but you know how it is… I read so many, and I mean, it’s a reciprocal type thing, right? So ‘neways, we’ll see how it goes. Like most, I’ll probably post like mad for awhile until I get bored(or realize no one is ACTUALLY reading it) of it, which is when it’ll slowly die away and disappear…
So what makes a good blog? Good question… well posting often helps, but I always find it amusing to take a greater glimpse into someone’s life who you actually wouldn’t know from talking to them. Then again, ppl do do stuff that mebbe I don’t want to know…
I’m feeling more and more teenager every day. Everyone always thinks they’re special, but in reality, certain rules of behavior will always predict it. Bedtime has been getting later, hw is getting pushed off, I’m writing things like this, and the drama… OMG the drama! It’s “out of control” (“calm yourself”). When even the likes of DNev and Willie and Petri are in there, you know something is wrong. Thought that group would be immune to drama, but oh no. Someone had to make it complicated(ahem)…
‘Neways, I was getting a ride home from Connor, and he’s like, “I don’t know how I get my reputation other than that ONE thing…” Gee, Connor, how about when you only realized halfway through the ride that you couldn’t read the street signs and needed to put your glasses on? What an idiot… and he was trying to justify what he did on the bus… though he isn’t a bad driver, I’ll give him that much. Other than the glasses. And I left my music in his car, then later called him to bring it tomorrow. See if he ‘members to do that…
If you haven’t talked to SmarterChild, you should; it’s actually quite amusing. I was trying to inquire about how it interpreted syntax/semantics, but it has an interesting “security system” AKA poorly programmed responses that prevented me from learning ‘nething. Past being able to talk to a computer, I had quite a bit of fun playing the trivia games. Always interesting stuff you can learn…
STORYTIME!!!!
It was a late afternoon, one of those afternoons where you have the taste of lunch’s pastrami just sitting in your mouth, slowly growing more and more foul as it turns to gingivitis. It had been a slow day in the office, no visitors, no mail, no mystery. I always hated days like that, because you knew that somewhere something was happening that needed to be fixed. If only I had the motivation to get up and fix it instead of letting someone come to me.
I counted the number of lace crosses on my shoes as my feet sat propped up on my desk, staring straight up to the ceiling with those toes that so desperately needed clipping. I had played with my fedora for what seemed like an eternity. Every sound that passed in the hallway excited me, a possibility for a new case to be presented, yet each echoed away in silhouettes just as they came. I had counted the number of ceiling tiles 42 times when I heard the doorknob clink as it turned. Immediately at attention, I dropped my feet, pulled out my pen, and looked hard at the grocery list on my desk, slowly raising my head as my visitor came in.
She was beautiful.
Yet mysterious.
“Hello, are you Mr. Dixon Dills?” I slowly nodded my head at the anonymous figure at the door, wondering why she didn’t just read it off the door. “I’m Betty Belle, and I need your help…”