I often sit at my computer and stare at my screen like I imagine Dorian Gray stares at his self portrait, seeing time slowly fade away only to himself and no one else. I hope that the words will type themselves out on their own, as if possessed by the spirit of Stephen King, or maybe a macabre writer who is actually dead. But alas, the buttons do not push themselves, and I obviously don't know how to push them right either. So tonight I will type the first thing I see when I look away from my screen and hope that a clever and coherent sentence forms itself out of my damaged brain cells and somehow oozes into my fingertips. So I look up and I see... the Swedish Chef from the Muppets. I am not joking. He is staring at me, as if to say "did you steal my chickens?", only in a cool Swedish voice. I did not steal his chickens, but I am kind of hungry. Are you not entertained? Does my slow decent into madness amuse you, am I funny like a clown? Why are you staring at me? I can explain everything... no really, I can. Don't worry, there's a donkey involved. What? No, I am not lying. Why the hell would I make this shit up? You can't make this shit up! Great, now I get to go to sleep tonight knowing that I just lost an argument to myself. Thanks, thank you so much for that. God damn heathens, I swear. Go, fine, be that way. I can make this salmon and blueberry pie on my own; I don't need your help... I have issues. That's right, plural.
all about that personality crisis, you got it while it was hot