Well, sorry folks, but I'm phoning it in today. I got nothing. All that is in my head today is "soulja boy", which is not conducive to creative writing. I mean, I have plans for a lot of other writings, but none of them are shiny enough in my head today. I blame my cold.
The only thing, right now, that I could talk on is how hot 99% of policemen are. That and the fact that there is a reflective toaster in the kitchen which scares the piss out of me everytime I walk in and catch a glimpse of some crazed human that looks like me, running loose in the kitchen.
Speaking of phoning it in; in the building there are numerous jars and bags of candy hearts. I like to pick out the white ones to carry around and munch on. Recently I consumed one that said,
They should just come out and say it,
"Will you be my last resort?"
Another one is,
That cannot be said in a sincere tone. I've never seen a candy heart so sarcastic; it tasted like resentment.
On a related note, I would like to begin writing opinion pieces, like world politics and stuff. I should probably start reading the newspaper to do this, I guess, since the only thing I read is The Junk, which means I'm authorized to speak on Britany and Lindsay, but not much else. Perhaps research into an area might be helpful...