I'm a Filthy Liar!

I think what I wrote last entry was probably the dumbest thing ever written in the history of the written word (and probably heiroglyphics, too, because those Egyptians sure didn't fool around, they had slaves to beat). So, I'm not going to keep going along that line of writing. I'm tempted to erase that last entry from my blog, but I'll keep it there so those that hold me in such high regard as an expert in the field of letterology (the act of putting letters in a combination such that they form "words," the laymen call this writing) know that I'm just as capable of writing something absolutely shitty, too. And I don't need comments on this entry saying, "You know, you're right, that last entry did suck." I also don't need the ultra-ironic comment that says what I just wrote not to say in the previous sentence with one of those goddamn winky smiley faces next to it.

Anyway, on to what's really important.

This past Friday I took the last final of my college career at eight o'clock in the morning. After class, I went home and took a nap because I'm not used to waking up anywhere close to the higher single digits. Well, it was after this nap that I woke up feeling like I wanted to kill myself because I, apparently, had learned nothing of storytelling and steering clear of contrived, trite, cliche-like-a-motherfucker storylines.

I had the gayest dream ever.

No. Not the dream where I'm blowing Harrison Ford in a pool filled with petroleum jelly. I mean gay in the sense that it was absolutely retarded. Some people of the homosexual persuasion find that the use of the term gay in this manner is demeaning, but it's not, so shut your gay ass up.

My dream was straight out of allegory 101. I actually dreamt that I was running a goddamn race all slow-motion and shit like with the Chariots of Fire song playing and everything and I was crossing the finish line. Then, after I crossed the fucking finish line, somebody handed me a check for $4,000. This is when I started crying like a fat girl unlocking her cookie cupboard.

I woke up with an overwhelming desire to hang myself in effigy out front of my goddamn school where I, obviously, learned nothing. A goddamn race? Really, Kurt? Could that, perhaps, equate itself to your college career that you just finished, you fucking hack? Jesus Christ. Then I cried like the little bitch that I am for getting $4,000. Wow. This is something I'll sure be glad my grandkids find one day when they search the internet for their grandpa who died riding a surfboard in a tornado.

I have a lot more things to write about that I've been jotting down, but I'll save them until later.

Intersecting thought of the day:
When two lines meet and create two right angles, they are called perpendicular.