The Worst Blog Post Ever

Lint. Blue lint.

I am beginning to think my belly button may be magical. I don't wear all that many blue shirts. Yet whenever I clean my belly button the lint that comes out is blue. How can this be???? Am I imagining things????

What did they call belly buttons before they invented buttons? Navels?

What did they call navels before they invented maritime vessels?

I should research this before proceeding further.

The internet is so slow when I'm downloading stuff. Oh well. I'll just have to ramble on about other stuff while I'm waiting.

Octopi are so pretty. They get me, you know? Some people look at dogs or cats or stray pigeons bumping into glass windows and as they watch them squirming on the floor they think to themselves: "I wish I were a pigeon."

I don't want to be a pigeon. They have no appreciation for public monuments. I don't want to be a dog. Dogs get wet and then they smell like wet dogs. I don't want to be a cat. Cats are assholes.

But octopi! When an octopus goes flying into a glass window, it doesn't hurt itself because it doesn't have a spine. It just flops to the floor, or if it is so inclined it sticks to the window and scares small children. They are so funny, and so smart. And flexible. I wish I were an octopus.

I need to download some octopi documentaries.

Today I plotted out the most efficient way to capture and murder a fellow human being with whatever resources I have on hand. I wonder if other people do this sort of thing for fun? I mean, I'm certainly not going to murder anyone. There are all sorts of metaphysical implications behind murder, like whether an act of violence perpetuates further acts of violence regardless of the body being driven to commit the act. And what about the children? You know they want things to change, but they don't necessarily want people to die. You really should be sure about such things before you cut someone off in traffic and attack them with a shovel, fill their mouth with cotton balls and duct-tape their limbs, mouth and eyes, take them somewhere quiet to wait for them to wake up before shaving off all their hair and cutting tiny razor cuts all along their body and staunch the bleeding with more duct tape until they are completely cocooned in a single large silvery sack, sever the spinal cord, wrap them up in plastic and put them in your car amidst mounds of camping equipment, drive out to the mountains and sling them up in a tree somewhere.

Sigh. Now that this is up on the internet I guess I need a new M.O.

I close my eyes, and imagine I am an octopus.
I open them.
Nope. Two legs.

Life is so unfair.