I’m thinking it must be some kind of sickness that affects bloggers. In a conversation with Kelly today, she mentioned that she too suffered from a variation of it. Boggitus Forgeticus.
I came home from the House of Chaos tonight all prepared to tackle a blogging project that Kelly mentioned might be fun. I pulled out my external harddrive to look up some old information. Then I took Cooper out to pee. Then I got distracted and played Mario Kart. Then I watched some Frasier. And three hours later, here I am, no closer to starting my blogging project than I was when I got home.
I do, however, have popcorn and a Mountain Dew. Observe:
I can’t stop eating popcorn.
I wasn’t always this bad. Once upon a time, I used to be a normal human being. Fine. A semi-normal human being, only in relation to eating popcorn. I would have a tub at the movies. I might make some for a marathon of DVDs. I might, even, have the occasional craving.
I’m not sure when it changed. But these days, the cravings start around 11:30 pm, and I find myself gravitating to the kitchen, towards the air popper, as if it was calling me.
Kelly gave me that air popper for my 18th birthday. Totally worth the hassle she went through to find it.
Anyway, my addiction seems to grow stronger with each passing week. I’m a popcorn dipper. I like to melt my butter and dip the pieces. I’m consuming my weight in butter on a weekly basis.
I told you, I have a problem.
And then there is the Mountain Dew. Sweet elixir of life.
It isn’t healthy, you say, to eat buttered popcorn and drink soft drinks at midnight?
Some day, my body will not be so forgiving. I’m milking my metabolism for all it’s worth, thank you very much.
And why not Popcorn and Mountain Dew, anyway? What’s wrong with that combination? I belong to one forum based solely around the idea of coffee and doughnuts. I ask you, is that really any better? I think not.
I’m feeling choppy tonight. Yes, choppy. It’s the opposite of flowy. Those are technical blogging terms that you may or may not be familiar with. If you don’t believe me, write to the National Authority on Blogging.
Is there a National Authority on Blogging? Please advise. And if there is, maybe you shouldn’t write to them. They sound awfully stodgy.
In the spirit of choppiosity… yep, I’m just making it up as I go here, people… I think I shall continue forth in bullet points.
- I found out today that the Kneepads of Allure neither kill NOR protect. They just allow you to force someone to help you fight monsters. Seems like an awfully silly use for kneepads.
- If they’re called kneepads, why don’t they protect? Don’t kneepads protect?
- And who wears kneepads to fight a monster anyway?
- We had a dinner meltdown at the House of Chaos tonight. There was much whining and inconsistency about chicken. You can read about it here if you want the full story.
- Chaotic dinner meltdowns make everyone cranky.
- That reminds me – Kelly, the Chaos Matriarch, seems to feel that I was calling her and her children boring in my previous blog about un-exciting spit-up. I didn’t mean to imply that I was UNHAPPY with the spit up.
- Strike that.
- Everyone is unhappy with spit-up.
- Except for Munchkin Girl Chaos. She likes to use it as finger paint.
- But everybody else is unhappy with spit up.
- I am not, however, unhappy with my non-exotic children. Except during dinner melt downs. See above bullet point.
- I finally went to the store to buy non-food items. I left with paper towels, toilet paper, stick lighters, and razor blades.
- This is Kelly’s fault.
- Everything is Kelly’s fault.
- I couldn’t very well have her over to visit without any toilet paper.
- But I don’t really mind. Sometimes I need forcing to go buy paper products.
- Also, is it sick and twisted that the first thing I thought, when surveying my shopping basket, was that I could, in theory, use the razor blades to commit murder, and then burn up the body with all of my paper products and my stick lighters? Then I worried that the people in the check out line might stop me because they would think I was going to burn something down. Then I remembered that they weren’t really privvy to my sick and twisted way of thinking, and it probably just looked like I was planning to, you know, wipe up spills, shave, and light candles.
- THEN I remembered that the people at Randall’s don’t really care one way or the other about what I’m doing with my paper products.
- Then I felt unloved and I cried.
- What? I’m PMSy.
- I intend to start posting about all the traveling that my family and I have done. I think.
- This is all Kelly’s fault. See above bullet point.
- But we certainly did have some adventures. It might be fun.
- American Idol is hosting auditions in Austin this year. I think I’m going to go.
- Did I mention that I like to sing? Better than just about anything else?
- Kelly says I don’t have a chance in a duck-filled, hell-bound handbasket of winning the whole thing – not because I can’t sing, but because I don’t fit the profile.
- She’s right.
- I don’t really DO cute.
- Though I can sing.
- Besides, I don’t know that I’d want to win the whole thing. I’m not sure that superstardom would agree with me. See, I have this little thing about people… I don’t really like them.
- Rather, I like them from a distance. Where I can observe and study them. Where I’m not required to interact with them and make a fool out of myself.
- I’m not good with people.
- But I still think I’m going to audition.
- I’ve taken to playing Mario Kart fairly frequently since the 4th of July. I suck on N64, but I’m getting pretty good on the Wii.
- I love my Wii.
- Kart, Rock Band, Guitar Hero, Super Mario Brothers Wii…
- Monkey Boy Chaos LOVES Super Mario Brothers Wii.
- But there is a whole post in this.
- Of course, since I suffer from Bloggitus Forgeticus, I will likely not remember that I intend to talk about Monkey Boy Chaos’s love of SPIKY BALLS!
- I have a copious amount of laundry that I should do tomorrow.
- And a Psych exam on Thursday that I need to schedule.
- And my vacuum cleaner cord needs to be fixed.
- And my laptop cable is being twitchy.
- I hate twitchy cables.
- They should be shot.
- Of course, that might make them twitchier.
- I really have to stop typing now. The choppiosity is getting the best of me, and I feel that I could keep going for hours. But that might bore you. And then you’ll all leave me. And then I’ll cry. And that’ll just give me a headache.
- Goodness, how many times can I use the word “And” at the beginning of a sentence in one bullet point?
- My 8th grade English teacher would cringe at me. Sorry, Mrs. McConnell!
- I’m going now.
- My butter is getting cold.