Much nothing about

When I first began this blog, I thought I'd rock the web like a hurricane. Alas, the Scorpions are the only one's who have the sting to do that. I've let this thing collect dust like Cleveland's championship trophies. When nothing happens in one's life, it's tough to write anything. I probably should just make shite up. The truth is too mundane - it bores the piss out of me. They say truth is stranger than fiction. I think the world is black and white without a bit of fiction to color things up some.

So here's what happened today. I was driving to work this morning when my eyes were arrested by the sight of a near-naked nubile nymph looking ripe as if right off the vine, standing by the side of the road with her thumb up. My thumbs were up, too - all of them, so I stopped by to see what was the matter. She saunters over to my car and asks me "can I have a ride?" I start to say "yes please" when all of a sudden I hear this blaring guitar, the sky sparkles and the voiceover in my head says something about how some great tasting, less filling mass produced piss beer is. I realize I've been had, and I need to turn off the tv.

When life imitates advertising, you know you've got to change the channel, or just put it on mute.