Best Word I've Heard All Day

Tingled.

v. intr.

1. To have a prickling, stinging sensation, as from cold, a sharp slap, or excitement: tingled all over with joy.
2. To cause a prickling, stinging sensation or feeling: The straw tingled.

Tingle here (above-right) wants to know: why tingled? It just makes me smile, that's all. I don't question it.

A Letter Writing Campaign

My friend, lets call him Minimexican, writes letters. And it inspired me. So I warmed up with a card that Kelly gave me in August and sent it to her. Ready for the real deal, I was inspired to write an actual letter, just a sheet of CGR copier paper filled with words. Several recipient candidates were considered. The final candidate, however, was unexpected and sudden, as if a flash of lightening in my head.

An Open Letter to Barack Obama

Mr. Obama-

To say I've never done this before would be a cliche...but I've never. Not even for an elementary school class activity. At least I don't think so. Anyway...the reason for my writing. I guess it's to first of all wish you a huge fuckin' congratulations on winning the presidency. Nicely done, sir.

But really, the reason to write is because of what you have done, and what I hope, because of your promises and pledges followed through from your campaign, you will continue to do. You are our generation's (I'm 26) great, inspirational, motivational, politician/person in shining armor, busting through the doors of corruption, misdirection, political, educational, environmental, racial, and social injustice wreaked upon our country and the world by many bad men with horrible plans for world takeover, some of which have already been realized. Your have given us all the hope that comes from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. You, sir, have allowed us to hope with a conviction that only comes with a sense that it might finally be time for change.

Thank you.

Sent 11/17/08

Doubtful Blogging

Will: you stopped blogging again.
already.
me: i know!!!!! :(
i hate myself
Will: well i hate you too.
me: tell me you liked it and i'll start again
Will: i love the blog.
me: you do?
Will: i would even consider letting the blog do me doggy style.
i love it so much.
me: i want to
but its sooooo hard
Will: inertia is hard to over come.
you need to lower the bar.
just assume whatever you post there is going to suck monkey balls.
me: but that sucks
Will: it gets a lot easier after that.
me: i dont want to assume that
Will: yeah, but then the more you post, the better you get at it.
and then before you know it your posts will be like little dissertations of flowery prose.
you should just take this gchat and post it on your blog.
a record of your self-doubt.
it's telling.
and it will be funny.
me: what i need is a sure-fire way for me to post something and then for like 1 million people to read it and i'll be a blogging sensation
Will: that doesn't make any sense.
it doesn't work that way.
also: most people that read blogs don't post comments.
me: you make an excellent point oh wise one
Will: you probably have like a whole 8 readers of your blog.
people that actually care about you, mind you.
not lame hangers-on.
people that want to just taste the fame.
me: no fairweather fans for me
Will: no.
me: thankfuly
Will: you're above that.
me: nothings worse than fairweather blog fans
Will: exactly.
'cause they're the ones that will then spread rumors about how you like monkey balls.
me: rest assured everyone, I DON'T LIKE MONKEY BALLS
Will: well, you should let your blog readers know that.
me: well if i'm gonna post this i should go so that it's not too long
Will: sometimes i am really fucking insightful.
me: say something else insightful in closing
Will: i humped your mom last night.
me: perfect
you really do have a way with words
Will: i make them with my fingers.