Don't read this. Stop it. Go away.

I told you, there's nothing to see. You can even tell by the title, if you want to extrapolate by about five centimeters. (Can you even measure extrapolation in centimeters? What is the proper SI unit for that?)

Welp, I am procrastinating. I am guessing you are doing the same thing, or you wouldn't still be here since I have implored you on at least three occasions to cease and desist. You, most resolute one, clearly have more of nothing to do than I. I am at least moving my fingers. I'm paving the way for carpal tunnel. I might also be burning about one calorie with my finger movement. I might even cancel my Anytime Fitness membership. You, you are just moving your eyes. And while I commend you on ocular kegels, you must admit, you are doing nothing.

You insist on continuing to read? Then I guess it becomes my responsibility to feed your voracious crappetite. (Heh, do you see what I did there? With the "crappetite?" Because I'm writing crap, and you're eating it up? Heh.)

THIS MORNING IS GREAT.
I never ever ever ever ever ever thought I had the capacity to like anything before 1pm, but this day started out RIGHT. I even danced to my alarm clock a little before I got out of bed. And yes, by danced, I mean, flopped around aimlessly without actually sitting up. It's more of a buttdance. But it's the spirit of it that counts.

First of all, I had about six dreams about Magic School Bus last night. Actually, I don't think they were all ABOUT Magic School Bus. But somehow the the class was on a field trip in all of my dreams, and Ms. Frizzle was doing her weltanshauung-narration of everything while it was happening, and occasionally the bus full of children would float by. It was like..."Mystery Science Theatre 3000, Ms. Frizzle Edition."

SECOND. The insurance lady called. Finally. Robbed in August, and I finally get to have my things replaced! Except for we're in a recession, so it's not like in the 90's, where I would get nice shiny new things to recover my loss...I get nice...dusty, depreciated-value things. They calculate the depreciation of all of my items stolen, and then I get that much. But at least I get free money, so it's still a great day!! (Okay, okay, I know it's not free money, and it's going to go toward things I wouldn't have to buy if they hadn't been stolen anyway, but I'm getting a check in the mail that I didn't perform manual labor for, so it FEELS like free money. Same concept as student loans.)

THIRD. I am not doing any homework yet. This WAS a good thing an hour ago when I started writing this post, but now it's starting to turn in to a terrible thing since I have class at 12:30 and have 3 readings to complete, and a short short short reflection paper. There's not a doubt in my mind that I can accomplish this. Or, rather, could, if my brain weren't wired backwards. It kind of has a lot of energy left over from metabolizing that shot I took with my daily dose of ibuprofen and speed at breakfast.

KIDDING.

But really, my brain is in fried-egg hyperactivity mode. Which is pleasant at the moment, but is proving detrimental to my "MUST...FINISH...HOMEWORKS..." mentality.

Final thought—Is it possible to shoot a spitball at the Mona Lisa? I mean, I SURE don't condone destroying or defaming famous artwork. But is it protected, like, secret service style? Like if the guard saw you taking out a straw, would he run at you in slow-mo while your eyes get really wide and pupils get really small, and then do a full-body-take-down kind of maneuver? Or would maybe HE would take the bullet? Or would you just get kicked out and fined? Would they not even know where it came from? Are straws all confiscated on the way in? Like, is that part of what's built into the metal detectors and bag-x-ray machines at the door of the museum? A straw detector? I'm baffled. But I'm not going to try it. No matter how much speed I'm on. I value the integrity of my spine, and my imagination is giving me this terrible image of a linebacker in a grey mall-cop outfit running at me in slow-mo to kick my ass. And THAT image makes my back hurt.