Brett enters the blogging world yet again, emerging from a cave. The black grime on his face makes him look like the white trash mechanic in your two-star neighborhood. He's also holding a rainbow lollipop.
'Sup, Y'all???
I have come back to tell great stories of things of whatever might be happening in the uneventful yet fantastic life of Brett.
So, good news.
Started working out.
For the first time.
. . . . . Ever . . . . .
Yeah. It's good. But my legs hurt.
They hurt.
A lot.
Imagine someone taking a bunch of marbles and shoving them up through a slit on the side of your thighs, so now every time you try to use your thighs, they grind and move and basically light your legs on fire. But it's weird, because it's a somewhat pleasant feeling, but I used the word pleasant for lack of a better word.
But, it's good. Working out means I'll finally be getting a HOT BOD.
But listen to this.
I know it's impossible to imagine,
But Brett Anderson . . . .
Within the course of a few months . . . .
WILL NO LONGER BE A TWIG.
Yes. Yes. You may stop your applause now.
Christmas approaches. Like I said before, just make sure you're trying to be a good person all of the time, and not just because there are all of these stupid constant reminders.
It should be something we naturally want to do, right?
But sadly, it's not that way.
But we can do our best to make progress, right? So let's shoot for it!
Do you hate it when people treat you like you don't even know how to think or take care of yourself? Yeah. Me too.
So, speaking of working out, I went today to get my year pass at the A.F. Rec Center, and all of these chicks were there as receptionists. Pretty sure they had two pounds worth of make-up on their faces. They all had, by definition, "the perfect face." But as soon as they opened up their mouths,
I wanted to stab myself in the ears.
They kept joking around and getting out of their chairs and snorting with high pitched squeaks mixed in there. All I could think was, "You people are the reason the world hates America."
They were basically no help.
They spent, like, ten minutes laughing and putting on these ear-warmers they got for working at the Rec Center, putting them on like a two-year old figuring out that he can fit his whitey-tighties on his head.
All I'll say is that I basically got out of there as fast as I could, that is, before my brain would start to melt and my hand would somehow get into my pocket and pull out my pencil and start stabbing me in the chest.
Oh, people.
Stupid people.
But hey, without them, we wouldn't have as many stories to tell, right? Plus, whenever I'm around them, I'm just glad that I can actually manage to have intelligence.
Ah. People.
Stupid people.
Listening to love songs right now and losing consciousness in the sweet thought of romance.
Whoopee.
Hope all of you have a fantastic winter, because snow and coldness and Christmas and my birthday and cold and snow are AWESOME. And if you hate snow, get over it, because I'm praying for snow and my prayers are MORE POWERFUL THAN YOURS.
WHAT, YO. *Throws hands up gangster style*
But for reals, I'm leaving.
Bye.
P.S., I went to The Killers concert. To say the least, IT WAS THE COOLEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME. Man. So good. You all need to go to at least one concert before you die. And if it's The Killers, I'll kiss you. Unless you're a guy. Or related to me. That makes things entirely too awkward. Nevermind. I changed my mind, I'll just give you a hug and proclaim to the wayward world how awesome you are.
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