how perfectly swell: matthew prins (or matt prins, or thew, or...oh, you don't care) alone with his stupidity
This is your last chance.
I need to have ten or more items for new anti-lethargy list done by Wednesday (and record an okay five-of-ten for the first attempt), and right now I am at six: The same handbell contest (since there's still a month left), some film festival deadline for "[sic]," another 10K race, another 10 kilograms, some short story contest, and the Henrico Theatre Company One-Act Playwriting Competition. Thus, I need some other ideas, and I would prefer ideas better than "mow the lawn more often" or "become less balding." And I do have a couple thoughts, but you are all such stunning intellectuals that you can come up with better ones. So do.
i sincerely do not know what you are doing here. are you lost? were you
looking for your delicate calico cat, and did you follow her up two flights of stairs
to this room? she is not here. she was here, yes. we gave her a warm bowl of milk, we talked with her about campaign finance reform for a time, and then she bid us good day. i believe she was
going to the post office two blocks down, but i don't quite recall.
for surely you did
not find your way from prinsiana, the least traveled site on
the internet. if you did, though, perhaps you are looking for humor. perhaps you are looking for profundity. perhaps you are looking for answers.
i'm sorry, but you shall go naught-for-three.