vanilla

I am really proud of my previous post! I put some effort into it! This post, however, will not be as thoughtful. It will just be full of thoughts. Sometimes the more thoughts one has, the less thoughtful they become. Lao Tzu Meg.

I smell. Like, stinky smell. Sweaty, post-gym stench. Funky, if you will. But I am postponing my shower to type up nonsense for the entire world to read. Well, most of the world. There are places in the world where the Internet is restricted or banned, yes? Look at me, Lao Tzu Meg who is also a professor of international relations. (I am not sure what international relations entails. Just, like, relationships with other nations? I'm a poet, okay? I'm not expected to be exactly smart.) In short, I'd rather spent my endorphin high on writing than on washing my body and shaving my legs. Shave my legs? Don't mind if I don't.

I purchased two Rockstars at the gym today because I am a maniac. The dude who rang me up went on to tell me how he had vanilla Coke last night at 9pm and was wide awake until 3 in the morning. The hell?! Maybe he meant that he had vanilla cocaine. Anyway, his tender wussiness was endearing. And I was, like, "I'll be blogging about this later, man!" Boy. He was not a man, but a boy. I will be the one to turn him into a man, ifyouknowwhatimean wink wink wink wink oh no there's something in my eye wink wink wink wink.

Rereading what I've written thus far, I'm beginning to think that I should spent this endorphin high studying international relations instead of writing. Why? I just typed "wink" eight times. Eight is a good number. It looks like the infinity symbol on its side. Or like the path of a figure skater. And if you divide eight by two, you get four and to me four is also a wonderful number because it means that each person has a partner. It's as if you are on a double date. But it's a double double date because there are eight of you, just figure skating your way to infinity and beyond. I am awesome. And maybe a savant???

Well, the endorphin high has petered out. Petered out! Hahahahaha. That sounds perverted. The endorphin high has whipped its peter out of its pants. SORRY, MOM. What I am trying to say is that a) I am proud of myself for not exhausting myself at the gym, thus giving me more happy chemicals in my brain and less depleted-of-all-energy sadness in my body, b) maybe I should try vanilla Coke to see if it has a magical, methamphetamine effect on me, and c) the odor of my body is not getting any better. In fact, it is getting progressively worse -- and at a rapid speed. I suppose it is time for me to end this thoughtful/thoughtless post here and get myself to a nunnery. (I refer to my shower as a nunnery.) (No, I don't.)

Smell ya later, lovers.