Disclaimer: If you are a fan of emojis, Bob Dylan, birthdays or Florida, you may want to skip this post. I’m just bitter because I haven’t had my coffee yet, and thus cannot be held responsible for anything written in this post.
- Emojis. I don’t know where people get these things. They’re all over Facebook, my text messages, peoples’ blogs… And they use them for EV-ER-Y-THING. Bad day? Sad emoji. Starbucks double mocha latte? Happy emoji. Dog just completed obedience training at the head of the class? Lollipop emoji???? I don’t even know what half of them mean. I’m still making faces with punctuation marks like a 95 year old grandmother. And I’m still confused as to what an emoji even is. They used to call them emoticons. Remember that, old people? Now they’re emojis? Why the name change? What’s the difference? It’s not that I have a problem with emojis… it’s just that I feel out of the loop which makes me feel old and cranky, and yet I’m still too lazy to download (Or upload? See? I don’t even know the difference…) an emoji app onto my phone. *sigh* These whipper-snappers and their technological thinga-ma-jiggers…
- Bob Dylan. Are there any other Bob Dylan fans out there? My brother thinks he’s a musical genius if not a demigod. Something about the lyricist of his generation blah, blah, blah. I personally can’t get through a single one of his songs without banging my head against a wall. That voice? Who can listen to the lyrics with that voice? I’m sure he is some kind of musical genius, it’s just that… I can’t even when it comes to Bob Dylan. But what do I know? I’m just over here all, “OOH! Taylor Swift came out with a new song? SQUEEEEEE!!!!” (Clearly, I am a 30 year old stuck with a 16 year old’s musical preference…)
- Birthdays. Why do people have to have birthdays when it’s inconvenient for me to buy them a gift? Why do they have to remember my birthday in the first place? If they didn’t remember my birthday, there would be no need to remember their birthday. But because they did remember my birthday, I am forced into remembering their birthday or risk looking like the big, fat jerk that I am. DUDES. STOP HAVING BIRTHDAYS. It is inconvenient and expensive. Not that I want you to die or anything… just… you know… stop acknowledging your days of birth so then I don’t have to either. Geeze. What part of this plan do you not understand?
- Florida. The Invictus Games are coming to the United States. Yay! To Florida. Boo! I know. I’m sorry. That was mean. I apologize to all the Floridians out there. It’s just that… for the last year and a half or so… I’ve had this thing about Florida and Floridians. As in… they bug the crap out of me. I don’t even know why. It’s like Wisconsin and New Jersey. I just don’t like them. I don’t even have a good reason. It’s harrible and bigoted and dumb. But I can’t help it. So, when I heard the Invictus Games were coming to Florida, I was all…
Which was quickly followed by…
I mean… what can Florida offer besides alligators, crocodiles and the most magical place on earth? (Which, isn’t even the most magical place on earth. It’s a place where sweaty, tired, cranky tourists stand in line with their screaming toddlers for hours on end to ride a single ride while they pray to God to put them out of their misery and let the vacation end early. How is that magical???) Florida is kinda like the armpit of the U.S. No… no, wait. That’s New Jersey. Which would make Florida what… the crotch of the U.S.? Hey, Military Heroes! Come join us in the crotch of the U.S.! Because you deserve our admiration and praise???
I’m sorry. That was mean. Florida is wonderful. Floridians are awesome. And what do I know? I’m just bitter because I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning. Sorry, dudes.
And on that note, I should go get that coffee before I start World War III… or Civil War II. Or… something equally disturbing.
Over n’ out, good buddies.