Lies

 

I’m in the dark guest bedroom at my parents’ house, trying to fall asleep.  My old shitty laptop is lighting the room.  It doesn’t have Microsoft Word or an “N” key, so I am forced to write in Notepad, desperately missing the convenience of Autocorrect, especially with words that have an “N” in it, such as “Notepad” and “N.”

I might as well be writing blind with two broken arms.

The goal, I guess, is to slowly soften the glow of the screen by filling up the white Notebook canvas with black words until my thoughts are out there as opposed to in here.

See, the last thing I did before I opened up my laptop was lie to my girlfriend.

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Four Seconds

This all happened in four seconds.

The club is very crowded, very loud. The three of us are trying to leave to find our other friends outside. Navigating through a sea of people is hard enough, made even more difficult by the fact they are all dancing.

A girl gyrates in front of me, blocking me, and I lose my grip on Jess’s hand as she moves forward through the crowd. I glance back to see that Andy is still in tow.

Jess isn’t ahead of me by much, only a few feet. But it is enough space for the sharks to get the scent.

Prey.

A pretty girl by herself.

Ripe for the plucking, one guy thinks.

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Dog Poop Addendum

I know I just wrote (too much) about picking up dog poop, but something else came up that I felt like I needed to add.

My girlfriend got me a thing that you put on the end of the leash for poop bags.  Like a toilet paper dispenser, but for picking up dog crap.

Anyway, the bags it came with are thin.  Like, really thin.  So thin that I imagine it would float away if you let one go on a completely windless day.

Being so thin, when picking up fresh dog crap, I can totally feel the temperature and texture of the specimen more than I could with my old bags, as if the bag is not even there.

Just thought I’d share that with you guys.

Oh, and yes.  Yes, that is the way I just announced that I got a girlfriend.

-Youngman Brown

 

Ice Breakers

My friend Kaytlynn recently wrote about things that make her feel uncomfortable that totally shouldn’t, all of which I could completely relate*.

*Follow her blog.  If you like mine, you will love hers.

The first of those things was ice breakers.  You know, those “games” that bosses, trainers, or orientation leaders use to start a group session in order to get everyone relaxed and acquainted with one another.

Ice breakers aren’t too distressful for me.  My heart rate increases a bit as it nears my turn, but otherwise, I don’t fear saying a sentence or two in front of a group of strangers.

Most of my anxiety comes from listening to the other people.  I can’t stand watching someone crash and burn.

As a result, I find myself smiling in moral support as they sheepishly try to describe to the group their love for different types of shoes.
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Anonymous Unite!

Last month, one of my favorite bloggers, MOV, wrote a really great post.

After reading a really great post, I usually leave a comment, telling the blogger how much I enjoyed reading his or her post.  In this fashion, I scrolled to the bottom of the post and began typing words of praise.

But as I was writing, I noticed the last comment that had been left by an Anonymous user:

 

After reading this stirring comment, I looked at the words that I had begun to type, and realized that nothing I said could compare.  Clearly, this Anonymous user had a better understanding of MOV’s post than I ever would.
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YMB Recommends: Codename Sob Story

One of the things that I want to do before I die is write a book.

The thing about books is that they’re really long.  And anything that is longer than a blog post is typically too long for me (that’s what she said, of course).

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Another problem is that books typically require a plot, and I’m really bad at developing a plot.  Or at least a good one.

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Through the Eyes of My Nephew

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One of the coolest things about my 4-year-old nephew, which I suppose is something that applies to all children, is his unwavering devotion to the things he loves. Namely, Cars 2 and Thomas the Tank Engine.

Especially Thomas, though. The engines that work and reside at the Island of Sodor are like crack to the kid. He simply can’t get enough.

He owns all of the trains and plays with them constantly, setting up their wooden tracks, but often going “off-road” with them all throughout the living room. There are many, many engines that reside in the Thomas the Tank Engine universe, and as such, he has many, many toys.

They are thirty-dollar pieces of wood with wheels on the bottom and a face painted on the front to complete the anthropomorphic process. Aside from the fact that some are painted different colors, they all look exactly the same. The only way to tell them apart is by turning them over to read the name of the train, which is written on the underside.

Unless, of course, you are my nephew.
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