If you had to drive anywhere near civilization the past two weekends, you probably stumbled on a St. Patrick’s Day parade, aka a large group of white people clinging to any semblance of culture. These people, mostly non-Irish or the exciting Part! Irish, gathered in places you needed to go and waited and screamed as the local American Legion and Kiwanis clubs trudged down the street, feeling like Kings and Queens for the day. “It’s just nice to see a group of my people out and about.” I’m sure someone would have said, had I asked around. It’s also a great time to go to your favorite bars, normally dead on a Saturday/Sunday afternoon, and wait an hour and a half for one drink.
Politics! I chortle as I write this. Kuh-razy! Here is a part where I bash Republicans and praise Bernie Sanders for sweet, sweet page views. Anyway, my journalistic views are sub-par, so I asked my cat who he planned on voting for this coming primary, had he been born at least 18 and human. He mewed with rapid inflection of someone yearning for attention so it’s anybody’s guess, really. And I don’t know if Ted Cruz is the Zodiac Killer, but Hillary Clinton could possibly be the Original Night Stalker.
Cue X-Files theme
I played a game or two of Kan-Jam this weekend. The team I was on lost most their games. Sometimes you just get a bad partner. Luckily, that bad partner can’t be me.
I had Wendy’s last night. One chicken sandwich, one bacon cheeseburger, and Baconator Fries. My stomach is weary today. I wonder why. My personal chef and girlfriend (titles mutually exclusive) prepared a late night treat for me one night because she doesn’t want to see me die of a heart attack at 24. It was very good.
I watched Room this weekend. It was incredible. I spent half the movie rocking back and forth in suspense. But for the sake of jokes and comedy, I should probably say something like “Locked in a room for seven years only to come to the real world?? They’re just like Donald Trump supporters!” And now you laugh and I feast on this low-hanging fruit.
Please laugh. I need money.
Get a life, nerds.
“Keep up the little blog! We’re so proud of you.” My mom, speaking on behalf of my father as well.
“Good job, johnny. Huh-huh. Job-Johnny. You know, like the portable toilets? I hate your blog.” Some person had I made this blog in high school.
“Four Thumbs Up!” A mutant version of Roger Ebert, just discovering my blog in the empty void of space.
Tune in next week for another blog that focuses on things I moderately dislike.