April 9, 2013

Pure boredom creates pure trains of thoughts (not)

This may be the first time I have ever "blogged" on my phone, probably because its one of the lamest things you can do. I'm an election judge at the moment, doing my civil duty. But speaking of blogging,  I truly hate the word blogged or blog in general. The blogging society is weird and I seem to distance myself from them as much as possible. A friend the other day said, " You don't have a blog, you have a public diary. And you're F-ing crazy". Once I thought about it, I seemed to never realize that I would post about anything on this site. I could post a picture of me naked if I wanted, and for some reason, I would not consider it porn. It would be porn. My white ass posted on my own website for all losers to see, porn.
Is porn bad? What is with the business of sex? Some kid the other day came up to me and brought up the question of legalizing selling ones body. Basically, you could become a hooker and there ya go, no FBI on that white ass. There actually may be a bright side to this. It may give me reason to walk around completely in the nude. If yes, I am completely, one hundred perfect, hands down, all in for legalization of... I'm not into the selling ones body, but being able to walk with my titties out around Winnetka has been a dream of mine.
I am an Election Judge, I swore on the bible. How could one who loves to be naked be an Election Judge.
Strictly because before you know it I will gain small job offerings within the government that lead me to becoming the next President. I would love running for President only because I know I would be up there right by Abe Lincoln, Jefferson, possibly the FDR.
Abe Lincoln was a cooooooooooool' guy, he probably was an election judge many years before he lead the civil war and, sort of, freed slaves. I, too, will free slaves... of some sort.

I was.

But many voters see me as this, which gives me extremely high hopes for my election in 2050.
Until this very moment in my life, I never realized how much I honestly look like yoda. This really sucks.

And also, there was a very, very, very crabby woman working at the same booth as I was. Possibly one of the meanest woman I've spoken too in a while, I asked her what her job was and she proceeded to tell me. I own a suicide hotline.

After sitting with her for about twelve hours, I probably will have to give her a call. People are so strange, no?


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