The Thirteenth: Boo!

Because this blog is all about filling pages not hearts, or minds, or those voids we all carry between us like magnetic repulsion, I have full licence to be lame and have a creepy thirteenth post post!

List of Very Creepy Things:

• The soulless stares of successful people as they listen to the sob stories of the abject poor on the reality series The Secret Millionaire


• Text messages. From anyone. But mostly text messages from acquaintances. It's a hollow medium with a great potential to be taken the wrong way


• Air currents that swirl around my house and push doors around. Like ghosts, but actually real. How creepy is that?!


• Me, when there are pretty people on the bus just a few feet away. Sorry! You're all very nice to look at. WOOOoooOO!


• The woodland creatures that live under my apartment and scurry around loudly at night when I'm least expecting it


• Commercials made by local car dealerships that are contemplating bankruptcy. "If you buy a truck during the holidays you'll get a free TV! ...dear god please buy a truck, please!"


• Computers that malfunction. Was it something I said? Do you resent using free software? Are you shutting down to plot my demise?


• Socks. Little scummy grey ones that once were white but will never be that way again. You make my skin crawl; I don't even want to touch you


• Thanksgiving leftovers a week after they were prepared. It's like with every new layer of mold and funk that stomach ache you had on Friday slowly reveals itself


• Piano music

Those are just a few things sending shivers down my spine on this thirteenth post of the blog. Its a scary scary world dear readers. I want you to know deep in your hearts that from the bottom of my heart I truly care, with no end to the caring, about the health of the bodies and spirits of your's dear readers. Honestly when looking at this thin list I have constructed here today, a list so minuscule in its scope and depth as to be almost comical, all I see are your weeping faces, and the faces of weeping future generations. The number thirteen will always loom over us. Surely the bureaucrats and mathematicians wouldn't hear of removing the wretched constant, justifying their nonsense with the weak excuses of feeble minded men, "all calculations would cease to be correct! The world will crumble!" They'll say in those shaky faux-british accents all academics seem to cultivate.

"Poppycock! Let me say now and state with all infinite truth and reason, the only thing we have to fear is...."

Never mind. It was cliched and unimportant anyway. What is important is that I keep typing. Only a few hours left to go in this marathon and the tortoise of time is catching up to my Hair-like methods. Time to do the... the.... you know. As of now it is nine o'clock. My class is at 3 pm tomorrow afternoon- that's 18 hours. I have about 13 more posts to make, for a very scanty grade, perhaps not an A... 20 more posts to be safe. That's a rate of at least a new blog post every hour and a half. Holy shit. Looks like I've saved myself a big piece of pie for the end of the meal and now I'm too full to finish. Yum pie. This little exercises may very well... I shan't think the thought. It's a brilliant challenge and I will rise up and kick ass. On to the next post!