This morning, I googled “why do I constantly skip words when I’m writing?” Because I don’t think I have a single godforsaken blog post that isn’t jacked in some way or written like english is my second language. Hard to believe my major was English writing.
I mean sure, I can blame my environment, or the fact that I frequently post from my phone (see: autocorrect shenanigans), but the truth is: I’m concerned. I used to be good! I happened to skim a blog post I wrote on Sunday and by the time I got to the last paragraph, it was obvious that I just wanted to be done writing it because it was a hot mess. I had to delete an entire “sentence” because there was so much wrong with it that I couldn’t tell what I originally intended to say. I’m just that good.
So I asked the Internet doctors.
GREAT NEWS: I probably don’t have a brain tumor. GOOD NEWS: Henry probably isn’t hitting my head with a candlestick in my sleep. BAD NEWS: I might suddenly be autistic? PLAIN NEWS: It’s likely attributed to racing thoughts (oh shit son I have those), lack of sleep (yes), and aging (ugh I’m old).
I want to make some promise that I will start proofreading again like I did back when I treated this dumping ground as my fake job; but the truth is, I probably won’t because I hate reading what I wrote and I’m usually just rushing to get ‘er done anyway. So consider it a mental exercise when you’re struggling to piece together my syntax – you’re welcome!
(I do proofread the shit out of my work emails though, which is how I dodged the fatal error of sending an email to Boobie instead of Bobbie.)
Here are some pictures from my phone. Hopefully I don’t fuck those up, too.
Hey, anyone want to buy some Sarris candy from Anonymous in support of Illuminati? Nothing shady about that, AT ALL.
Me. In a Brookline alley. During a wind storm.
This happened on Facebook and Henry’s response made me LOL. Also the fact that Blake & I were low key arguing over who taught Chooch the fine art of penis penciling. Later, Chooch admitted that his inspiration was the Henry Weener series that I used to do, and that made me feel so proud!! (And also inspired to start creating those works of art again.)
Henry clearly thinks differently.
When we were checking out at the Asian market on Saturday, I noticed that they offer a glorious array of red light bulbs right by the register (and conveniently right above the Pocky)! This is good to know for when the audit light burns out.
I’ll be able to get kimchi and a new audit light in one trip!
Peen Lop is muy tolerant.
But then again, so is Chooch.
Before I sign off, I have an addendum to my brain (BRAIN, ERIN, NOT BRIAN. BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN) woes: I was walking into work this afternoon and slammed my nose into the glass of the revolving door because I was walking faster than I was pushing. I hate my new invalid self.
(FYI: Henry sat here and yapped his bearded word-hole at me for the last five minutes, because distraction is the key to solid writing.)
Well, ciao for now!