Sweet Jesus Murphy. I am blogging. I won't lie to you, it's because I am too poor to afford paper. Also, I can almost type as fast as I can think. Almost. I'm sure that this is Karma's way of sticking her tongue out at me and saying, "I told you so, bitch!". Damn you. Meh, something good better come out of this otherwise, I'm going to feel like a dumbass. Hopefully no one sees this. If you're reading this, damn you. Karma will find you as well.
And to begin:
If you had the choice between a very nice vacuum cleaner or a time machine, which would you pick? How much do you want to bet that you would pick the vacuum. No, you would. Think of it this way. At first, you'll pick the time machine. You'll probably spend some time going back five minutes before, feeling time race past you as you soar through the impossible. Then you'll get bored of the feeling and actually want to travel really far back. You'll probably go to the 1990s. You're a trooper now, eh? When the '90s get boring (which you know they will. C'mon! It's the '90s!), you go back even farther. We will say the year 1900. Before you know it, you'll be racing through time seeing all the things you've dreamed of. Then you'll start noticing changes in yourself. All of the sudden, you'll be pregnant (even if you're a dude) or have no arms. You realize that your mere presence at the moments you've travelled to had a direct consequence affecting you. Holy mother! You'll go back to the year 2008 and find that we haven't even invented toasters or, even worse, vacuums! HA! And on top of that, you'll have 95 kids (due to recent fertility experiments), a husband, and six semi-attractive wives that speak in a weird dialect you can't understand. You'll be so destraught, you'll go back in time and pick the vacuum. Karma's a bitch.
No comments:
Post a Comment