The Little Things

Dear Reader,

I thought that I should inform you that the comments from you that I love so much, left on my posts like little dry piles of deer poop, are dwindling. I'm not sure if it's because you don't have much to say about what I have to say, or if you're just inebriated by how much I don't have to say. Whatever the case may be, I am requesting that you make an effort to start leaving such comments so that I know what you enjoy most, so I can maximize your customer experience.

Oh no- I'm sounding like a marketing major.

There just seems to be a lack of communication betwixt us, and that communication gap is more annoying than the one between the Lara Stone's two front teeth in Vogue. YIKES.

So to set an example of what you should be doing, I'm going to leave a little pile of poetry in this post. It shall be italicized so you can tell the difference between my creative remarks and my remarkable creativity.

Sincerely,
Your Whimsical Scribbler

P.S. Is T.T. an obsolete pen name now? *GASP* You should vote on it! How? By LEAVING A COMMENT, of course!

Here's a list of things that have happened in a short amount of time:
1. The cat featured in the previous post died. I think the reason was runtage. :(
2. Benjamin Peter Martin FINALLY came into existence. I think the reason was humpage. :)
3. School + Work have consumed my soul. I can barely remember what I look like. Good thing I have a PICTURE:





All of the four-leafed clover in the world
could not make me as lucky as I feel when I'm with you.







That's actually a goofy picture of me at The Mellow Mushroom, but I figure you get more flies with honey than vinegar. Not only did that aphorism not make sense in this context, but it actually doesn't make sense at all. I mean- who would actually want flies?

THAT REMINDS ME.

*dramatic lighting*

So the other day I wake up early to do the 14 buttloads of homework that has become the social norm in my life, and I'm doing my normal breakfast thing in my room. Then I start hearing some crazy whirring and banging around in the kitchen at like 8 freaking 30 in the morning, and then there's this SMELL, and so I go out to the kitchen, and our entire apartment is filled with smoke.

I honestly don't know how she does it. My roommate, that is.

There were like two halves of cabbage boiling in some brown who knows what on the stove, and I think there was some fish or maybe shrimp and then a terrible amount of vegetables strewn about. I was litrally (said like Chris Trager from Parks and Rec) coughing because of all the smoke, and the blue onion-y haze stung my eyes. She apologized, and turned the fan on and then opened the windows, which kind of sucked because it's May in Georgia, right? So we have the air conditioner running, and then all cool air goes out the window...and all the flies come in.

So now we have flies. Or, rather, a fly. There might have been more at the time, but they've been dropping like flies.

HBARF.

But the flies weren't even the worst part to the story. The SMELL and the way it STAYED IN MY HAIR ALL DAY was what was so terrible. You guys know how I am about the way my hair smells.

Also, I hate how everyone started using the word 'caveat' all of the sudden. It's NOT that cool of a word, people! 'Hornswaggle', on the other hand, is a cool word, and everyone should find a place of context and start using it immediately.

My dad still doesn't look like a grandpa,
T.T.