WHY THIS BLOG IS HERE

So this morning I went to work and as I typically do went to myspace to begin my day. Much to my dismay, I got a page that said FRIEND ID NOT VALID USER HAS CANCELLED THEIR PAGE OR IT HAS BEEN DELETED. I thought there must be some error so I tried to sign in again, and again, and again. Then, in a fit of sadness, I text messaged my friend Monica who I thought might actually care. She did. Or so it seemed. I desperately asked what I would do all day without myspace and she suggested that I start a blog. It is a suggestion she has made before, and an interesting one, but I never did. Until today. Whatever I will talk about on this thing has me stumped. In fact, I lead a very dull and routine life so it seems there would be very little to discuss. However, I may surprise myself. I was thinking that maybe I should have a theme for this thing. From what I typically see people write about what they do and other such things. Since I do nothing, that type of blog would be awful. At lunch I was reading the Onion and they had a piece about celebrities putting their mp3 players on shuffle and commenting on the first 3 songs. You are not allowed to skip anything no matter how awful it may be. Something very awful may come on mine. This will be fun.

1. Waiting For The Sun, The Doors-There really isn't too much to be said about that. I mean other than the obvious Natalie used to be a big old wannabe hippie type. I really can't front though; I truly enjoy its lameness.

2. New Jack Hustler, Ice-T- HAHAHAHA that’s funny stuff. What a nice juxtaposition. Before I wanted to be a hippie (which I used to be pretty good at in a clean sort of way) I wanted to be a gangster. I was not a good gangster. Needless to say I have a strong affinity for that old school gansta rap stuff. It can always make me smile.

3. To The Whore Who Took My Poems, Charles Bukowski- I have to thank Tony for this one. He is quite the Bukowski fan. This poem was quite interesting though. I too would be pissed if some whore took my poems. I, like Bukowski would rather be robbed of my funds than of my creative works. Man that is depressing.

I just spent the last hour and a half stuffing, gluesticking, and stamping envelopes for a breakfast for work. That was interesting. I thought I would get to at least hear a lot of music but after "To the Whore Who Took My Poems" The Santaland Diaries came on and that took over half an hour. Not that I minded, it was certainly a barrel of laughs. I think I am supposed to go have cake now. Whenever someone leaves work for better things there is cake. Well it happens when almost everyone leaves. They get cake and presents and a big good-bye. On my last day I got nothing. Well my department gave me a gift cert so that was not nothing and I was taken out to lunch by the ED and program manager, again, not nothing but I certainly didn't get any cake. Some people didn't even know it had been my last day. I never really got that one. Maybe they knew I would be back in three months. That’s creepy to think of. Anyway. I'm off to sit there and pretend as if I care. The real party is afterward anyway.