I use to have creative thoughts all the time but recently they have been more or less busted, like John Travolta career after Faceoff. A severally terrible movie in which the only thing I can recall is Nick Cage’s character smoking a cigar in a mask, which is legitimately creepy. Not as creepy as the original Pennywise sucking a kid down the Sewer. But definitely more on par with the new watered down version of him.

For some reason I always seem to find myself writing, not that I’m particularly good at it or anything. In reality, my grammar is on par with most 6 graders, which is my fault for cheating on spelling tests in most of Elementary school. Why would I learn how to spell “grape” when I could get a sticker from the store? Who’s the stupid one now Miss Mitchell, cause it’s definitely not the 28 year old using Google.

Majority of my day is spent at a 9 to 5 job where it’s my job to figure out how to something no one has ever done, in a limited amount of time, and get blamed for when it goes to shit. Or otherwise knows as a Consultant.  This requires me to answer about 1000 emails, 100 phone calls, and have several awkward 45 minute conversations  with my boss about how I help him add pictures to his contacts because apparent OS is that fucking hard to figure out.

In my 45 minutes of free time I go on a lot of internet dates, where I’ve been told I have one of the best written profiles. Honestly that it’s a lie as I’m sure they haven’t read DT’s yet, but I take that with a badge honor.

Join me in my adventures, or don’t.

I’m still gonna write shit either way.