This blog fucking shit. Are you happy now, Mom and Dad?
I’m pulling teeth here, why did I ever sign up for this?
The shit my name is going on. This is going to be around forever, my great, great, great grandchildren will be able to search my name and find the shit I’ve done.
They won’t understand anything I’m talking about, but a quick search will be able to inform them on all that too.
My kids are going to know, their kids are going to know, and their kids, and their kids, and their kids, and their kids are going to know that I once compiled a list of “6 Things To Prove You’re the One.” They may not need to know what the contents are, they won’t have to, but they’ll know that I was a part of the problem, that I was a part of The End.
Even if I go on to be a CEO, or whatever that equivalent means for me in the future, all my future employees will look me up in researching my company, and somewhere along the way, they’ll find my article, “What Your Bra Says About The Night You’re Trying To Have.”
I’ll teach my kids what cliché means.
Is this supposed to be an apology? Fuck you and pay me for these words.