I feel ya, sistah.
Anyway, this blog post is kind of painful because some jackass wrote an article informing everybody that the 'double space after a period' rule that we all learned isn't actually a rule.
My fingers are cramping up from me constantly trying to avoid tapping that space bar a second time. It's stupid. I would post a link to the article but, remember, I'm tired so I'm not hunting it down for you guys.
While I was stressing out about important things like everything I ever knew about typing being a lie, the Winter Olympics were starting up. There's nothing I love more than watching a bunch of people my age and younger reminding me just how uncoordinated I am. I tripped over five different dog toys in my living room yesterday, so an Olympian I am not. Also, a housekeeper I am not.
Maybe if they changed the categories up a little bit, some of us lesser humans could snag a gold medal. I mean, I can make a sandwich faster than anybody you know, but all that really ever got me was a little more than minimum wage and some free smoothies. I can also lay so unbelievably still on the couch for so long people start to question if I'm alive or not, 'play dead' if you will. All that got me was three seasons into Lost on Netflix before I realized it wasn't any good (translation: it confused me). I also put my shoes on the wrong feet at least once a week and have recently gotten in the habit of putting my underwear on inside out. Ok, so maybe not give me a medal for those ones so much as point me to the nearest support group.
Basically I just need somebody to pat me on the head and telling me I'm doing a good job at life.
God, this is the worst post ever.
And I think I double spaced behind after every sentence.
Joey and I are going to go work on our figure skating routine.
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