Here is where the title should be

Oh yea. I had a thing on the interwebs where I post occasionally humourous essays or posts which I could then upload for all and sundry to peruse. A web-log I think it was called. My, it sure seems an eternity ago since I’ve written something.

Well let’s see.

Hmmm….

Errr…

So… do you?

I mean, nice weather we are having….

Well not exactly, I mean of course it has been a little bit like The Big Guy left the thermostat I little too high but relatively speaking it is quite nice weather we are having. It sure could be a lot worse. We could be in Iceland.

……

You know what?

If I were to ever find myself in a zombie apocalypse situation, I would much rather be bitten and turned into a zombie than to try to survive. I mean, there really isn’t much of a point in being a human except boning the remaining hot broad with breasts you can use as a bookshelf. Might as well get it over with.
Also why do you think there is always one big breasted survivor in every zombie apocalypse? Are zombies allergic to cleavage or something? Maybe zombies are confused by the irregular silhouette of a well endowed woman.

I’m tired of this make believe conversation. Moving on.

I don’t know what it is about doing nothing. The thing about doing nothing is that often you find that it is quite difficult to then not do nothing anymore. It is almost as if an inertia builds that resists any sort of force acting on it. In light of this revelation I have conceived this alteration to one of Newton’s laws.

An object that is at rest would remain at rest until a resultant force acts upon it, at which point the object would groan pathetically and turn over sideways and pull its covers over itself.
Not the most concise or catchy scientific law but accurately describes about 80% of all adolescent boys.

It’s not so much that I’m not doing anything than I am doing nothing.

I’ll let you think about that for a bit.

Done? Alright.

It’s strange living in this twilight zone, no there are no vampires but it is like living in a time bubble or a forgotten pocket of some faded old jean shorts of time. Seconds, minutes and hours lose their meaning and any passage of time is gauged more by the semi regular occurrence of hunger or hearing American Idol playing on the television in the living room. Both of which leave me feeling empty in the stomach.

I rarely have anything approaching the semblance of thought. In the past two weeks the only real thoughts I had were the drivel concerning the zombie apocalypse and how strawberry and Nutella on toast would taste. It was quite delicious actually.

Now I’m just prattling. I should stop here before I lose all self respect and start writing posts about how much my life sucks compared to everyone else. God, I hope I don’t become that.

That would be no different from being a zombie.