Or so it feels. Perhaps I am just bored. Who knows? I feel that I want to write an extremely sexually-graphic blogpost. Either that or an extremely violent blogpost. Maybe a combination? Yeah, I'm definitely bored.
On the plus side, I went to the Community Center today--after I got off of work early--and I played three games of basketball. So that was good. I got the ole blood pumping and I exercised me lungs a bit. Also I sweat out some toxins and I connected with some real live people instead of a computer keyboard.
Also, since I went to the C.C. virtually right after I got home, I was--sadly?--unable to take my daily nap. Listen: naps are great, they really are. But, to me, they seem to be more of an escape mechanism for me (from Boredom with a capital b) than an essential part of a 35-year-old man's day. I am not a baby. Nor am I an eighty-year-old. I don't need daily naps. And, without said nap, I should be able to get to bed at a reasonable hour tonight. 1:00 and 1:30? Those aren't reasonable times to retire to the bedroom.
The key is Exercise. That's the key, damn it!
I'm blathering. I am blathering because I am bored. I might be well-off to get a hobby. Maybe I could make little Monster Miniatures. Have the Wolf-Man posed up on my shelf, snarling at the rainy sky. Or the Invisible Man. See him? Nor do I. Which sucks, because it took me three times as long to complete him, seeing as how I kept losing him all the time. Maybe I could make a traintrack down in the basement, have it snake and weave through bundled stuff and underneath the ping-pong table and past the doggies' cage. Wouldn't that be swell?! Maybe I could wield a drawring pen and create vast panoramas of desolate desert scenes. Maybe I could include camouflaged Daffy Ducks in the scenery. Kinda make it like a "Where's Daffy?" type of thing. Waldo? Eat your heart out.
Maybe I could just read a book and go to sleep. Maybe I could surf the Interwebs for porn, porn, porn. Maybe I could wash the dishes or wash my sheets. Maybe I could scour the bathroom or brush the dogs' fur coats. Maybe I could juggle pennies; maybe I could shave my head (and maybe my balls) and then take a shower. That sounds good. Thanks for being my sounding board, y'all.
BORED: Bring On Rigorous Erectile Dynamics
BORED: Barring Obvious Ramifications, Everybody Dreams