You get so damn bored its not even funny. You start to write shit like this:
“Jesus loves all the little children - he should be arrested, not idolized. Everyone tries to be like Jesus - apparently even the Catholic Priests. What envokes such love for under developed peepees and vagoos? Is it the lack of hair? If thats the case, why don’t most pedophiles date old men with the saggy balls? Are they too saggy to derive pleasure from? Jesus loves all the little children, but all he did for the elderly was give sight to a blind man to shut him up. How many times can a guy listen to ‘I can’t see! He’p me Jesus, I can’t see!’?”
Apparently its bad to write things like this at work.
One wonders where exactly you wrote this. If you had the balls to write it in ten foot high letters through the medium of artfully crafted baked-bean can scupltures then I salute you. If not then…well that’s just boring.
… o.o well, ok…but you’ve been warned. I was supposed to write something about my town that I liked, but I couldn’t really think of anything. This was on top of things I needed to include in it like repetition, block format, etc. This is what my poor sleep-addled mind crapped out.
Eight PM
I like the fact that there’s nothing to do after 8 PM. And by ‘like’ I mean ‘hate’. The only thing that you can do downtown is bar-hop, and not everyone is into that sort of thing, especially if you’re under 21. You can drive around Springfield after 8 PM, wandering Kearney, National, and Campbell, looking for things to do. And then when you and your buddies come to the realization that there’s nothing to do here after 8 PM, you settle on the places open all the time.
I like the fact that the only alternative to another boring evening at home watching old re-runs of Law and Order is going to Wal-mart Supercenter. You can wander around the consumerist paradise after 8 PM, and at the engraving machine order an engraving on a doggie tag with an obscene phrase for kicks. You read the magazines and laugh your ass off at the latest Weekly World News headline about Bat Boy sightings in New York. Then as midnight rolls around, you sit in the beanbag chairs in the furniture section and blab with your buddies until a salesclerk chews you out about sitting on the merchandise. Thinking you didn’t really want to be at Wal-mart Supercenter in the first place anyway, you drive around some more, now that it is way past 8 PM, and edging more towards 8 AM, you’re hungry. So you travel to the 24-hour McDonald’s for a fresh unhealthy bag of greasy stuff that barely passes as food, and that will probably kill you sometime in the future. And why? Because there’s nothing to do in Springfield after 8 PM.