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356/365 – End of Level One

Today was catch up day.  So much catch up because of my sickness.  Matter of fact, I had so much catch up to do that I can’t even remember what the hell this title of this post means.  “End Of Level One”?  I wrote this like 5 hours ago and I’m so confused.  I clearly wrote it as a way to remind me of what I had to write for today.  But then you start writing for the other days you’ve neglected and everything becomes mush.

This is your brain . . . This is your brain on too many blog posts.

SERIOUSLY, what the fuck.  Sorry, but the “f” word is totally necessary . . . I feel like that was for my mom and mom-in-law.  I have a filthy mouth.  Sorry moms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

BUT IN ALL SERIOUSNESS, WHAT THE FUCK.  End of Level One?

Video Game reference?  Maybe.  But why would I write about beating level one?  What, am I 8 again and I just got a Nintendo and stayed up all night to beat Super Mario Brothers level 1?  Yeah, mom, I did that.  And I almost peed myself because playing a video game always trumps urination.  Didn’t you ever wonder why I would wiggle my legs back and forth when I was playing video games?  I wasn’t excited, I was holding back the river Nile.

Mom, I would like the Nintendo in here so I can kill two birds with one stone . . . one smelly, brown stone.

Could it mean I’m happy to be on the second floor of an apartment building?  God that’s lame.  Why would I write that.  I’ve never been on the first floor of an apartment building.  Well, in college I was.  That was different . . . Ha, I remember the time I was so drunk I couldn’t fish my keys out of my front pocket so I thought I lost them.  I banged on the window so hard it cracked. Then I passed out i the bushes . . . first floor apartment . . . Sorry, mom . . . moms . . . and land lady whom I told a stranger broke the window.

No, seriously MS. Land Lady, a shirtless babe ran up, broke the window and disappeared from my life . . . like all women seem to do to me.

Jesus.  Did I just get through the first stage of AA?  I’ve been really sick.  Who knows.  I mean, I could have been drunk when I wrote that . . . a celebratory drink for reaching level one.  Nah, that’s in poor taste.  Almost as poor as when my brother Pat and I played a drinking game while watching Intervention: every time someone drank on the show, we did too.

When I google searched Intervention for a photo, I got this gun. So you get this gun. Sorry, no drunk people pictures.

Oh no. . . Scientology.  God no.  I joined Scientology.  My Thetons made me do it!  Like the time I was coaxed into taking a Scientology personality test in London.  I had no idea what it was and I kept having this weird feeling someone was watching me.  Then I turned around and a giant 6 foot bust of L. Ron Hubbard was staring at me.  That was weird.  Right John Travolta?

Right? John, I’m down here. Under the giant Scientology sign . . . what do you mean there is no giant Scientology sign?

You know what screw it.  I’m keeping the title.  I’m also moving on.  This post sucks.  Have a great day.  Intervention is on.

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