What would you say?
Though I doubt I should have to explain myself, like ever, I feel the need to acquiesce to my gut and reiterate that I do not believe everything that Oprah says. I do not necessarily believe the aforementioned statistic. If I did believe such drivel then the title of my previous post would have been “Oh my fucking hell”. I would’ve been less jovial and unable to write three coherent words together let alone four entire paragraphs. I also would have swallowed my tongue, drank myself into a stupor, cried a bit, frozen my eggs and found a sperm donor all before writing Part #457 of the stupid shit that Oprah says. Or better yet, Part #457 of the stupid shit that Oprah’s production staff feeds to her and perhaps those women are feeling lonely in their powerful positions and University of Chicago degrees and so why not pass off their depressing statistics to the masses? That way all can partake in the joys of permanent celibacy.
I should probably stop going on these bitter tirades because in the end I seem so rancorous but I cannot because the neurons going from my brain to my fingers say otherwise. And yet thinking of how things have been going as of late, I suppose there are things that I wouldn’t dare write less incur the wrath of all those around me. So I step back and then skirt around the issue, which manifests itself into a myriad of crap ass half stories. Which begs not one but two questions: 1) Why can’t I stop with crap ass half stories but instead must go for the crap ass half segues? 2) What won’t you ever write about?