And Wendy Says I Never Write Creatively Anymore
This could be true. An exert from an email I sent my dear friend Linsey:
Well I've been here for a month now. And I have some news. I'm already engaged. I know what you're thinking; What!?!? Crazy isn't it? When God moves, God moves, as they say. It was sort of by accident that I met her. By the way, her name is Stacie. She's super cool. She's from North Dakota. She loves everything I hate, which is really funny. I can't help but love everything she likes. She took me shopping today. I bought some pants from the Gap! The GAP? Yes. Love is blind.
Anyway, we were walking by each other and I thought she was another girl I had met and actually intended to talk to. Well, when I said the other girl's name, she turned around and I was like, "oh, hello!" We talked all night, literally. A couple hours at this new student party thing and then on the phone. We've hung out everyday. I prayed about it all day yesterday and I just knew, so I asked her last night. Of course nothing is official, but I know. So, that's exciting.
[I went on for about two paragraphs of random things, making small talk. Then I wrote this:]
Oh yeah, by the way. Stacie is not real. Hahah. You so fell for it. Now, I'm not much of a Calvinist, but I can already, predeterminely, see the look on your face. Your mouth is agaped. Yep. Haha. Sheesh. Who do you take me for. Haha. That was good. That was my fiction writing for today.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Stupid Is As Stupid Does
We should spell work W-E-R-K because we all have to werk with jerks and the change of spelling would make the congruous nature of the two more obvious. Mike, I've enjoyed your recent anecdotes about your job. You work in a christian bookstore. I work across the street from a LifeWay at one of those nasty, secular pluralistic bookstores. I like most of the people I work with, even the head honcho but there are a couple of the higher ups desperate to climb the corporate ladder who oft steal my days of their joy. I'd love to put a discount card in their eye.
Let me tell you about Friday. Our intercom system has been busted for two weeks, to compensate we are communicating via walkie talkies. This, of course, provides added entertainment as CB'ers all around town come in on the frequencies. I was breaking the girl who had been on register one. While checking a customer out the computer malfunctioned. I radioed the manager-of-the-day. To no response. I had a line of four customers and their patience was starting to wear. I paged the M-O-D again. Nothing. This was a situation that had to be resolved. Immediately, right? That's what logic told me. I rushed to the magazines, where I found her. She stood there with another manager. Apparently, she was too busy so she sent that other manager up to the front with me. They figured out that they were on the wrong channel. This, their fault. What did this manager say to me? "Who's watching the front?...You should NEVER leave the front." "It's just we had several customers and I couldn't contact anyone by radio. I thought this was better than everyone getting mad and leaving." She replied insistently, "Still."
I work for idiots. And the thing is, this is one of a dozen stories from a single day.
Not long after the above described incident a lady came to my register. One of her purchases was a gift bag that said, "Happy Birthday." The price was 3.99 but it would not scan. Typing in the ISBN didn't work either. So I tried the only other way-I went to the look up screen and typed "HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAG" The only result cost 2.45. Technically, there's a procedure by which I can change that price to the right one. Instead, I just looked up and said, "It's on sale. What do you know?"
It's awful, but I'm not sorry. This is how I cope. Indirect theft. Screw the company. Their greedy and ridiculous and the only reason we took money for the Tsunami relief was for political correctness.
To end this post I'll share with you a poem I wrote on Friday.
Workplace Ethics
If I could wear headphones on the job
I would feel much better
I would work harder
I would not be a slob
I could sing my songs and all would understand
that I operate on a far away land
they would all know to be careful
when asking me for help
or giving me their rhetoric
i would accomplish quite a bit more
but that would be heaven
not this miserable store.
We should spell work W-E-R-K because we all have to werk with jerks and the change of spelling would make the congruous nature of the two more obvious. Mike, I've enjoyed your recent anecdotes about your job. You work in a christian bookstore. I work across the street from a LifeWay at one of those nasty, secular pluralistic bookstores. I like most of the people I work with, even the head honcho but there are a couple of the higher ups desperate to climb the corporate ladder who oft steal my days of their joy. I'd love to put a discount card in their eye.
Let me tell you about Friday. Our intercom system has been busted for two weeks, to compensate we are communicating via walkie talkies. This, of course, provides added entertainment as CB'ers all around town come in on the frequencies. I was breaking the girl who had been on register one. While checking a customer out the computer malfunctioned. I radioed the manager-of-the-day. To no response. I had a line of four customers and their patience was starting to wear. I paged the M-O-D again. Nothing. This was a situation that had to be resolved. Immediately, right? That's what logic told me. I rushed to the magazines, where I found her. She stood there with another manager. Apparently, she was too busy so she sent that other manager up to the front with me. They figured out that they were on the wrong channel. This, their fault. What did this manager say to me? "Who's watching the front?...You should NEVER leave the front." "It's just we had several customers and I couldn't contact anyone by radio. I thought this was better than everyone getting mad and leaving." She replied insistently, "Still."
I work for idiots. And the thing is, this is one of a dozen stories from a single day.
Not long after the above described incident a lady came to my register. One of her purchases was a gift bag that said, "Happy Birthday." The price was 3.99 but it would not scan. Typing in the ISBN didn't work either. So I tried the only other way-I went to the look up screen and typed "HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAG" The only result cost 2.45. Technically, there's a procedure by which I can change that price to the right one. Instead, I just looked up and said, "It's on sale. What do you know?"
It's awful, but I'm not sorry. This is how I cope. Indirect theft. Screw the company. Their greedy and ridiculous and the only reason we took money for the Tsunami relief was for political correctness.
To end this post I'll share with you a poem I wrote on Friday.
Workplace Ethics
If I could wear headphones on the job
I would feel much better
I would work harder
I would not be a slob
I could sing my songs and all would understand
that I operate on a far away land
they would all know to be careful
when asking me for help
or giving me their rhetoric
i would accomplish quite a bit more
but that would be heaven
not this miserable store.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Not To Steal Mike's Glory
I just realized that I never posted my new contact information on here. Some of you got my email containing it, but some of you did not, which means I don't have your email address. Anyway, here is my info:
Jeff Watkins
3939 Gentilly Blvd.
# 573
New Orleans, Louisiana 70126
504.816.8514
I just realized that I never posted my new contact information on here. Some of you got my email containing it, but some of you did not, which means I don't have your email address. Anyway, here is my info:
Jeff Watkins
3939 Gentilly Blvd.
# 573
New Orleans, Louisiana 70126
504.816.8514
Thursday, February 17, 2005
It's The End of The World...And I Feel Fine
People talk about the future. They say we'll have steroes and ovens that read your mind to know exactly what you want to hear and eat. They say we won't have anymore situation comedies or rock 'n' roll or United States.
Okie dokie, future man! Please have a seat and tell me all about what it's like there, in the future. I am so intrigued. I would like to point out that with all the inventions we still haven't come up with a time machine and with all your predictions you don't have a very strong batting record. I think this proves your an idiot, in the here and now. Would all the idiots please shut up?
Day after day after day I am bombarded with sign after sign after sign that to these people is clear evidence that the end of the world is imminent. Since the world was set into motion it was bound for its final days. Jesus, himself, said we were living in the end times, although he clearly did not mean it the way most of us have interpreted it.
So the next time you think of the rising prevalence and acceptance of sin or various natural disasters which are supposedly unprecedented or shifts in the world political climate which seem to mirror those foretold in Left Behind just remember no one knows the time of Christ's return.
When is not as important as the promise itself. Prophecy is fulfilled, everyday. There is a whole host of historical and scientific evidence to accompany this claim. What you do with this evidence is another matter entirely, but nonetheless prophecy will continually be fulfilled. We have a God who keeps his promises and we find that hard to believe considering the number of times that we've been betrayed, lied to or let down. Still, it's true.
Now here's what gets me. We talk about all these signs in such a way that would make an eavesdropper certain we were scared to death. We're scared they're going to take our country, our churches, our way of life. All of these things will very likely happen, but we need not be afraid.
God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7).
Let's not run around like headless chickens. Let's not camp out in lieu of the rapture. Let's live the more abundant life right now. It is offered to all. Let's live in such a way as to remind people of this offer. That's all we can do.
So don't freak out.
People talk about the future. They say we'll have steroes and ovens that read your mind to know exactly what you want to hear and eat. They say we won't have anymore situation comedies or rock 'n' roll or United States.
Okie dokie, future man! Please have a seat and tell me all about what it's like there, in the future. I am so intrigued. I would like to point out that with all the inventions we still haven't come up with a time machine and with all your predictions you don't have a very strong batting record. I think this proves your an idiot, in the here and now. Would all the idiots please shut up?
Day after day after day I am bombarded with sign after sign after sign that to these people is clear evidence that the end of the world is imminent. Since the world was set into motion it was bound for its final days. Jesus, himself, said we were living in the end times, although he clearly did not mean it the way most of us have interpreted it.
So the next time you think of the rising prevalence and acceptance of sin or various natural disasters which are supposedly unprecedented or shifts in the world political climate which seem to mirror those foretold in Left Behind just remember no one knows the time of Christ's return.
When is not as important as the promise itself. Prophecy is fulfilled, everyday. There is a whole host of historical and scientific evidence to accompany this claim. What you do with this evidence is another matter entirely, but nonetheless prophecy will continually be fulfilled. We have a God who keeps his promises and we find that hard to believe considering the number of times that we've been betrayed, lied to or let down. Still, it's true.
Now here's what gets me. We talk about all these signs in such a way that would make an eavesdropper certain we were scared to death. We're scared they're going to take our country, our churches, our way of life. All of these things will very likely happen, but we need not be afraid.
God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7).
Let's not run around like headless chickens. Let's not camp out in lieu of the rapture. Let's live the more abundant life right now. It is offered to all. Let's live in such a way as to remind people of this offer. That's all we can do.
So don't freak out.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
So Far, as of this Moment,
work is good. I only had 5 kids today, ranging from 8-10 years of age, but it was just quite a pleasant change. They are so normal. Mostly, I can ask them do something and they will for a few seconds. I love normal kids so much better than the psychotic ones I'm used to dealing with.
work is good. I only had 5 kids today, ranging from 8-10 years of age, but it was just quite a pleasant change. They are so normal. Mostly, I can ask them do something and they will for a few seconds. I love normal kids so much better than the psychotic ones I'm used to dealing with.
Monday, February 14, 2005
St. Valentine Martyred Me
Though the incredibly depressive title would elude to me being in a bad mood, I am delighted to inform you otherwise. As of Saturday, I am employed with Education Station, a partnership with Catapult Learning (formerly Sylvan Learning Center) as a tutor/instructor. I got the call around 8PM on Friday night, though I didn't know it until I got home at midnight that night. I called my boss and talked to her for 30 minutes at 12:45 AM. I went to training at the very early hour of 8 AM on Saturday. Today, I found out I am at Lafayette School, tutoring the 3rd graders there in reading. The pay is ridiculously high compared to what I am used to and I only work 1 hour 30 minutes each day, 4 days a week. I don't tutor tomorrow because it's a teacher instruction day or something, but on Wednesday I will get introduced to my kids and on Thursday I will start my first lesson. Pray for me.
Though the incredibly depressive title would elude to me being in a bad mood, I am delighted to inform you otherwise. As of Saturday, I am employed with Education Station, a partnership with Catapult Learning (formerly Sylvan Learning Center) as a tutor/instructor. I got the call around 8PM on Friday night, though I didn't know it until I got home at midnight that night. I called my boss and talked to her for 30 minutes at 12:45 AM. I went to training at the very early hour of 8 AM on Saturday. Today, I found out I am at Lafayette School, tutoring the 3rd graders there in reading. The pay is ridiculously high compared to what I am used to and I only work 1 hour 30 minutes each day, 4 days a week. I don't tutor tomorrow because it's a teacher instruction day or something, but on Wednesday I will get introduced to my kids and on Thursday I will start my first lesson. Pray for me.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Antbed
Thoughts attack my brain like ants on the leg of an unsuspecting child. It isn't long that he remains unaware, but what to do about this is the bigger question. Swatting. This method is effective, but not as quickly as one would hope. An even bigger trick would be for a person to withstand the pain and pluck each ant off of his leg, preserving their life to build an ant farm. I want to capture this herd of thoughts and manage somehow to get them, at least most of them, into words. I don't know that I can ever truly master this but perhaps I can catch a few of the little buggers as they come at me.
I have a similar dilemma on the way to and from work, there are a fistful of ideas, etc. that I want to explore in coversation with Donna. I remember a couple and on a good day I might recall three. There's a feeling in my brain quite like forgetting what I was talking about and struggling to regain that. I carry on ridiculously, I know. This happens during long distance phone calls with close-to-heart friends. I'm so glad to hear from them that I sometimes end up not hearing from them as much as they hear from me. Sorry guys. It's really not that I'm an egotistical bastard so much as it is I have no thought of time then. This is how much I enjoy their friendship. The topic of conversation is never as important as the fact of conversation itself. Still, I should listen better, because its polite and what they have to say is surely more interesting. When I think about it sometimes it seems a kind of agony to be limited by length of phone cards and/or price of long distance.
Like those blasted ants, I swat away. I can't kill all the ants, but I'll celebrate the victories. I take what I can get and savor it. With this post I am pleased. Now I didn't get all the thoughts out, but thankfully the valuable ones never leave forever. Much like friends, you can't forget them- not for very long anyway.
I'm going now.
I have a similar dilemma on the way to and from work, there are a fistful of ideas, etc. that I want to explore in coversation with Donna. I remember a couple and on a good day I might recall three. There's a feeling in my brain quite like forgetting what I was talking about and struggling to regain that. I carry on ridiculously, I know. This happens during long distance phone calls with close-to-heart friends. I'm so glad to hear from them that I sometimes end up not hearing from them as much as they hear from me. Sorry guys. It's really not that I'm an egotistical bastard so much as it is I have no thought of time then. This is how much I enjoy their friendship. The topic of conversation is never as important as the fact of conversation itself. Still, I should listen better, because its polite and what they have to say is surely more interesting. When I think about it sometimes it seems a kind of agony to be limited by length of phone cards and/or price of long distance.
Like those blasted ants, I swat away. I can't kill all the ants, but I'll celebrate the victories. I take what I can get and savor it. With this post I am pleased. Now I didn't get all the thoughts out, but thankfully the valuable ones never leave forever. Much like friends, you can't forget them- not for very long anyway.
I'm going now.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Learning
"Gnosticism and neo-Platonism, with their denigration of the material and lauding of the 'spiritual' and esoteric, introduced into the early church an unhealthy asceticism that undermined an important foundation for the moral life. Over the years asceticism has denigrated a positive holistic view of sex, hearaled the monastic life over physical or mental work, and debased the calling to live in the midst of culture and society."
Dennis P. Hollinger, Choosing The Good, Baker Academic
"Gnosticism and neo-Platonism, with their denigration of the material and lauding of the 'spiritual' and esoteric, introduced into the early church an unhealthy asceticism that undermined an important foundation for the moral life. Over the years asceticism has denigrated a positive holistic view of sex, hearaled the monastic life over physical or mental work, and debased the calling to live in the midst of culture and society."
Dennis P. Hollinger, Choosing The Good, Baker Academic
Friday, February 11, 2005
Friday, I'm In Love
As Chase so perfectly put it, To Whom is once again a group blog. Chase has left his blogging infidelity :) and committed to us. His wife of two months, Donna, also joins the cast. It's nice to have other people writing again. Make sure to make Donna feel welcome. I also have another big announcement. The creator of our little site, Justin McLeod, has agreed to rejoin To Whom after he abandoned us for the glimmer of the big city. After my subtle begging, he couldn't resist to come back home. So, now that makes four writers for those of you who read. I expect some more hits and comments. I'm cooking out with some friends later so I need to go do some reading I've been putting off. Bye.
As Chase so perfectly put it, To Whom is once again a group blog. Chase has left his blogging infidelity :) and committed to us. His wife of two months, Donna, also joins the cast. It's nice to have other people writing again. Make sure to make Donna feel welcome. I also have another big announcement. The creator of our little site, Justin McLeod, has agreed to rejoin To Whom after he abandoned us for the glimmer of the big city. After my subtle begging, he couldn't resist to come back home. So, now that makes four writers for those of you who read. I expect some more hits and comments. I'm cooking out with some friends later so I need to go do some reading I've been putting off. Bye.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
on americanism
red, white and blue
the pride of our land
torn, ripped and burned
all by our own hand
patriotism is one thing
capitalism is another
you let the stakes ride
i won't run and hide
how do you stand
on your own two feet
when your life exemplifies
the standard for defeat
the colors that form a rainbow
are beautiful to the eyes
but the colors of our flag
will lead to our demise
unfortunate circumstances happen
casualties for the sake of a color scheme
we chose those consequences proud
that's why I scream so loud
there are meanings behind the tone
maybe you can't see what's dead
red, white and blue
purity between sorrow and bloodshed
red, white and blue
the pride of our land
torn, ripped and burned
all by our own hand
patriotism is one thing
capitalism is another
you let the stakes ride
i won't run and hide
how do you stand
on your own two feet
when your life exemplifies
the standard for defeat
the colors that form a rainbow
are beautiful to the eyes
but the colors of our flag
will lead to our demise
unfortunate circumstances happen
casualties for the sake of a color scheme
we chose those consequences proud
that's why I scream so loud
there are meanings behind the tone
maybe you can't see what's dead
red, white and blue
purity between sorrow and bloodshed
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Beauty + Meaning
I feel as though I've lost all relevance. These anecdotes I write are barely significant to me, and rarely mean much to anyone else. I don't say this to say I mean nothing or even that my writing is empty. I say this knowing what it means to tap into the reservoir of my soul by way of writing and in doing that to find some poignancy. I don't do that anymore. I'm not sure when the last time was.
The written word is one of the things I'm most interested in. However, I'm not one of those appeased simply with words irregardless of their denotation. As far as I can tell, the writer's task is two-fold: aesthetic and intrinsic. The intrinsic attributes value and the aesthetic allows for effective communication.
An architect will not remain of high-esteem if he builds pretty buildings that collapse. He'll only be remembered for his folly. If a man builds his family a home that never falls, but is basically ugly, no one besides his family will remember anything but that it was an ugly house. The family will like it because it was built with his blood and determination. They'll appreciate him for meaning well and for being a good father and husband. He won't be reknowned as a great architect. That's fine, of course. Who else really matters?
But the thing of it is, I'm a writer. It's a gift I've been given that as of right now I don't know what to do with it. "How do I work this thing?" I used to know. It seems it should be easier to pick up again than riding a bike. I've never really abandoned the craft, but apparently I've unlearned it. I want to relearn it. I want to learn how to marry beauty with meaning.
I want it to flow as naturally as it once did. I want to be able to be less self-conscious when I write. I don't care how much of it is genius or even how much of it is original, I just desire for it to be pure. Something sincere, you know?
I feel as though I've lost all relevance. These anecdotes I write are barely significant to me, and rarely mean much to anyone else. I don't say this to say I mean nothing or even that my writing is empty. I say this knowing what it means to tap into the reservoir of my soul by way of writing and in doing that to find some poignancy. I don't do that anymore. I'm not sure when the last time was.
The written word is one of the things I'm most interested in. However, I'm not one of those appeased simply with words irregardless of their denotation. As far as I can tell, the writer's task is two-fold: aesthetic and intrinsic. The intrinsic attributes value and the aesthetic allows for effective communication.
An architect will not remain of high-esteem if he builds pretty buildings that collapse. He'll only be remembered for his folly. If a man builds his family a home that never falls, but is basically ugly, no one besides his family will remember anything but that it was an ugly house. The family will like it because it was built with his blood and determination. They'll appreciate him for meaning well and for being a good father and husband. He won't be reknowned as a great architect. That's fine, of course. Who else really matters?
But the thing of it is, I'm a writer. It's a gift I've been given that as of right now I don't know what to do with it. "How do I work this thing?" I used to know. It seems it should be easier to pick up again than riding a bike. I've never really abandoned the craft, but apparently I've unlearned it. I want to relearn it. I want to learn how to marry beauty with meaning.
I want it to flow as naturally as it once did. I want to be able to be less self-conscious when I write. I don't care how much of it is genius or even how much of it is original, I just desire for it to be pure. Something sincere, you know?
Monday, February 07, 2005
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Show The Protocol
Last night I experienced my first Mardi Gras Parade. Mardi Gras, which means "Fat Tuesday" in French, so I hear, is the celebration of indulgent-depravity before Lent. Though it wasn't entirely a sin-fest, there were plenty of drunk people to make up for our sobriety. It was fun though. I had a good time with some friends from school. I met some nice people there as well. I earned some beads too, but I didn't have to show my boobies. Anyway, I need to go. More to say later.
Last night I experienced my first Mardi Gras Parade. Mardi Gras, which means "Fat Tuesday" in French, so I hear, is the celebration of indulgent-depravity before Lent. Though it wasn't entirely a sin-fest, there were plenty of drunk people to make up for our sobriety. It was fun though. I had a good time with some friends from school. I met some nice people there as well. I earned some beads too, but I didn't have to show my boobies. Anyway, I need to go. More to say later.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Because Of All This, I No Longer Die
I am chapfallen, still, by living in a dorm that only has community bathrooms, though I am getting over myself. However, I am still quite surprised by the number of guys who will come out of the bathroom having not washed their hands. I am not a hypocrite. I understand the "pee and run" mentality. I've done that myself. But, when you partake in a "stall-worthy" event, you surely need to wash, no?
I've been out of class for an hour now and I've just been slacking and sitting here while being online. I got invited to go with some people to some Mardi Gras parades tonight, tomorrow, and on Mardi Gras, which is February 8th, this coming Tuesday. The whole city is getting crazy. Traffic is worse. Everything is getting ready to shut down. Matter of fact, Wal-Mart isn't even open next Tuesday in honor of the Catholic, yet modernly-decadent festival. I don't have class as well. So, in order to go tonight, I have to do some chapter summaries for a class. I'm doing a lot better about reading for class than at my previous attempts in undergrad. I'm keeping up with my work and not waiting until the night before to write the few small assignments I've had. I'm actually proud of myself. I know my Mom and Dad would be too. Alright, see, I'm slacking. Leave me alone.
Ciao...
I am chapfallen, still, by living in a dorm that only has community bathrooms, though I am getting over myself. However, I am still quite surprised by the number of guys who will come out of the bathroom having not washed their hands. I am not a hypocrite. I understand the "pee and run" mentality. I've done that myself. But, when you partake in a "stall-worthy" event, you surely need to wash, no?
I've been out of class for an hour now and I've just been slacking and sitting here while being online. I got invited to go with some people to some Mardi Gras parades tonight, tomorrow, and on Mardi Gras, which is February 8th, this coming Tuesday. The whole city is getting crazy. Traffic is worse. Everything is getting ready to shut down. Matter of fact, Wal-Mart isn't even open next Tuesday in honor of the Catholic, yet modernly-decadent festival. I don't have class as well. So, in order to go tonight, I have to do some chapter summaries for a class. I'm doing a lot better about reading for class than at my previous attempts in undergrad. I'm keeping up with my work and not waiting until the night before to write the few small assignments I've had. I'm actually proud of myself. I know my Mom and Dad would be too. Alright, see, I'm slacking. Leave me alone.
Ciao...
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Brave New World
Brave New World
Read this with passion. Give every syllable your complete attention. Stare into the screen until you can feel the burning in your eyes. This is big news.
To Whom it May Concern is going to be a group blog again!
How did such a miracle come to be?
I could tell you how blogs came into being and how I got into blogging and later quit and returned and how me and Donna had always thought it would be fun to share a blog and all of that. But I imagine that is a much lengthier story than you want to dedicate yourself to this afternoon.
So. In short, our people talked with Jeff's people and we inked a one year, 300 hundred dollar contract. OK, the money part is a joke. The true part is that me and Donna will be writing here now. I've been a member of this squad since the second day of its inception, but have held divided loyalties because of having my own operation.
No more.
I quit the other gig. I'll be full-fledged and full time, devoted hopelessly to you. Come to think about it, this may or may not be good news to you- according to your perspective. If you don't like this scroll on, it won't offend me. I promise.
But I'm sure you'll like Donna. She's smarter and wittier than me. I realize this doesn't take much, haha. Anyway, I'm proud of her because she's breaking barriers, just like Jackie Robinson, she's the first girl to join us here at To Whom.
In honor of this I think all you girls should put on some pants and go slap a man.
Us guys should put on a record and cry about our lost roles of dominance. Jeff, me and you can fuss about it here, like always. No one can take that from us.
Greetings and good night. Nooches.
Read this with passion. Give every syllable your complete attention. Stare into the screen until you can feel the burning in your eyes. This is big news.
To Whom it May Concern is going to be a group blog again!
How did such a miracle come to be?
I could tell you how blogs came into being and how I got into blogging and later quit and returned and how me and Donna had always thought it would be fun to share a blog and all of that. But I imagine that is a much lengthier story than you want to dedicate yourself to this afternoon.
So. In short, our people talked with Jeff's people and we inked a one year, 300 hundred dollar contract. OK, the money part is a joke. The true part is that me and Donna will be writing here now. I've been a member of this squad since the second day of its inception, but have held divided loyalties because of having my own operation.
No more.
I quit the other gig. I'll be full-fledged and full time, devoted hopelessly to you. Come to think about it, this may or may not be good news to you- according to your perspective. If you don't like this scroll on, it won't offend me. I promise.
But I'm sure you'll like Donna. She's smarter and wittier than me. I realize this doesn't take much, haha. Anyway, I'm proud of her because she's breaking barriers, just like Jackie Robinson, she's the first girl to join us here at To Whom.
In honor of this I think all you girls should put on some pants and go slap a man.
Us guys should put on a record and cry about our lost roles of dominance. Jeff, me and you can fuss about it here, like always. No one can take that from us.
Greetings and good night. Nooches.
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