"Dude, I'm like, fucking, Valedictorian at Harvard." - Jason Mewes
I have nothing interesting to talk about at all. So... you know.
When you're just wandering from working day to working day, to massive depression on the weekends and whenever you're at your house there's a massively demanding dog that isn't yours wanting you to throw a cong endlessly and you're still trying to work off a four-hour sleep deficit from the last night you felt like killing yourself there really isn't much to say.
I don't want to blog about my housemates, because it seems impolite and they're nice people. (And I've already been impolite about them on FaceBook)
I don't want to blog about the dog because I don't like him very much and he's much like any other dog, just stupider and with much worse ADHD.
I don't want to blog about why I'm depressed because as often happens when you have depression there's only 200-odd small reasons rather than one good one that just makes you sound like a dickhead.
I don't want to blog about TV shows because there isn't really anything on. I mean, IT Crowd was funny but definitely not mindblowingly so and Futurama is much the same.
I don't want to blog about the new Doctor Who season because I've got all the shit I wrote at home, and I need to watch most of the episodes again. And I don't want to watch them again because I suspect they won't be as good as I remember and I'll get more depressed. That and the fact that again, retarded dog taking up most of my free time.
I really, really don't want to blog about my upcoming birthday as it may be #1 on aforementioned 200 small reasons countdown.
I can't blog about any games, because I haven't had much time for playing them but also the computer I'm using can barely play a podcast and surf the net at the same time.
I would like to blog about Inception but sadly the film is inextricably linked to something that depresses me now.
I don't want to blog about my best friend's birthday, because they were a few of the 200 reasons there (The ones with tits) and that was also the night that made me want to kill myself that I mentioned earlier. Nor do I want to blog about my other close friends upcoming birthday because I uninvited myself, afraid that the same thing would happen again.
I also don't want to blog about the unusual coincidence therein that three of us have birthdays three weekends in a row, because it went from being a cool "Hey, we'll be getting fucking wasted this month" aside to a horrifyingly macabre paranoid theory of "Somebody up there desperately wants me off this fucking mortal coil".
I don't want to blog about the one thing there is to say about my 'love life' that I'm handling rejection well now because along with everything else in my life it feels over half a decade too fucking late.
I don't want to blog about work because I have a friend who got fired for that very reason. Interestingly, work is the only thing I'm actually enjoying right now.
Oh, I also didn't want to blog about my best friend because we ended up having a massive screaming match over absolutely nothing on FaceBook, presumably because we're both on edge. Though he doesn't tend to tell anybody so I figured he was just being a complete dick.
I don't want to blog about the Federal Election, for reasons that really apply to everything else, because everything I have to say has been said by others better.
Basically, I don't have anything to say because I'm massively depressed, which I guess stands to reason.
"I don't like watersports at the best of times. And these aren't the best of times." - Kerr Avon