I’ve decided to write a long post because I’ve nothing to do and everything not to do. I believe right now it’s 3:10 pm, around this time people who aren’t me are out having fun with friends or doing something productive, but instead I’m here, on the computer, typing to you. Now, it’s my understanding that you are currently camping somewhere with everyone cool for your wicked birthday without me because I couldn’t go, hence the title and the slightly pessimistic theme of this post. While you were probably driving to said camping trip, I was going to Deakin University which was a stupid, pointless excursion. There was a Double-Decker bus like they have in that place called Britain, only it was treated almost like a back seat of a normal where in which only the cool kids got on. I got on the vibrating, old, green leathery other bus that gave me a head ache and I’m almost sure diffused the blood in my left arm. While Thomas, Eamon and Catherine all talked in the special Pokemon language that anyone who hasn’t been playing Pokemon since they were born is completely oblivious to, I spent the hour and a half bus drive reading Moab is My Washpot, which is a book by Stephen Fry. When we got to the university, we had an introduction with this lady who said that her girlfriend was studying in Fiji, the precise phrase ‘Girlfriend’ that was subject to smirks from the homophobic big haired people in front of me. You probably don’t want to hear any more but it was a shitty excursion.
Anyway, I’m just filling you on the day that you missed while you were off being awesome, and I have nothing much to say anymore. I’ve got a weird feeling that this post was meant to go somewhere that it didn’t, kind-of like that feeling I had when I figured out that the title of the first movie I ever bought on DVD was ‘Max Keeble’s Big Move’ and not in fact ‘Max Keeble’s Big Movie’. Did you ever watch that movie, because it had pretty wicked special features, including a game. Games in Special Features I’ve found have become obsolete in the last 3 years. Or maybe I’m just not watching the right kind-of movies. There’s a movie about a talking dog on which I obviously can’t miss, so I’ll finish here. If you’ve read up to this much, Karla, I’m extremely impressed. Okay bye.