In the past few weeks I’ve been trying like hell, with all my heart, to be a little more random, the way almost all the people around me are. But I think I’m just not cut out for it.
So the conclusion I came down to: I can’t be any more random than I already am!
I’m not random in the South Park or Sponge Bob or Family Guy or Barney Stinson way (no matter how hard I try to be, to fit into the “Random People’s Club”) but I’m random in my own specific way. For example, ………. zzzZZZzzz……….. What was I saying? Oh yeah, the randomness…. So ………. zzzZZZzzz….. So do you get it now?
I think I’m actually going crazy now. I have nothing to write about! *panic* Writer’s block, maybe? Or is it just a lack of inspiration? I think lack of inspiration! There’s not enough hotness around (NOT referring to the weather) to inspire me! *evil snickering*
So where is all the hotness? (I have a vague recollection of asking this question before. *thoughtful humming*) I think I’ll go get some food, or maybe I should just annoy someone? Food or annoying someone? *weighing the options* Do you feel annoyed now that you wasted a perfect 5 minutes of your life reading complete random gibberish? You do, don’t you? Now you’re trying to cover it up with fake laughing just so you don’t feel like an idiot.
YES! I can read minds! *points threateningly* & YOU ought to stop thinking about the left-over pizza in the fridge & get some work done.
I’m bored now. It’s been too much randomness now. I must sleep now, rejuvenate the random bone. *counts sheep*
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