Damn The Twitters
Even before I started this sentence, I was all, hey, I'm drunk, I really shouldn't be writing for all the internet to see, and then I thought, whatever, because yeah, I do the hand-wave and say Whatever in my head, but I hide it like a grownup, and then, I said Fuck it, because I'm not the grownup I sometimes pretend to be, and I wrote this sentence.
This ridiculous update is brought to you, by the way, by bad Twitter reinforcement:
Bad people, all of them.
Do you want to know what's disappointing? My typing is still good. I can still spell. Or, at least, I'm still capable of editing well. I'll give you a taste of unedited, drunken Schmutzie doing stream-of-consciousness:
Okay, this is me typing withou any editing . it's easy to screw ou[ on my stupd keybora= because I'm missing a couple of acutal eys and have to press the rub ber butrtons where the key s used to be. See? Uneddited Schmutixe reads like shit. Also, I mistye my own name almost EVERY time. It's tur. I mean, TRUE.
And, I am oing to wake up and regret this. But only a little. It will stille be funny. At least to me.
My parents-in-law? They read this site. So do some of their co-workers. It may be less funny to them. We'll see the next time we go for supper, and I am denied desert.
Or, I never work again. Ha.
Everything's funny 'til you wake up and can't find the ibuprofen.
Okay, so that I can wake up and feel less freaking ridiculous about this little inernt faux pas, please do link to/share your own drunken missteps. Ms. Steps. The last time I did this, I wrapped my cat in toilet paper:
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo.