Home > FBG's Stream of Conscious > Saturday Night Stream Of Conscious … Not Posted On Saturday

Saturday Night Stream Of Conscious … Not Posted On Saturday

I need to write more.  I don’t know why I haven’t been writing more.  I do know that I wanted to write “idk” before I wrote “I don’t know.”  That’s probably because I’m used to the iPhone phrase shortcuts auto-correcting my txting-speak.  See where this world is going?  To an efficient end, that’s what!  You thought I was going to bring up the decline of our worldwide intelligence due to sub-par reality television, school budget cuts (for whatever reason politicians thought this was a good idea to save the economy by generating even dumber kids), and, as this topic demands, the introduction of cell phones.  Actually, how many of you reading this can even remember a day when there weren’t cell phones?  I personally hope that the majority of you just puffed up your chest and stuck up your nose in age defiance that, of course, you can remember the days before the cellular machine when life was inconvenient but you could ignore somebody easily without wondering if clicking Ignore on your phone would tip them off that you simply didn’t want to talk to them.

I need another drink.  And my butt itches.  I’m not quite sure why it itches or, at this literary reference in time, did itch because I’m typing this post-scratching.  It’s curious why my butt didn’t itch as I was sitting writing the first paragraph, yet following the act of standing up to fill my cup with glorious booze, the skin on my rear decided that it’s been long overdue of scratching.  And now I’m dancing.  Not in a sexy manner, mind you.  More in the way that I got up to make another drink, then, as you may recall in your Alzheimer’s-free short term memory, stopped mid-walk to the fridge to engage in a delicate scratching of the behind, and now my body decided that I need to relieve myself… preferably in the toilet.  This dance of sorts has now turned into a full-fledged, standing-up squirm of all squirms as if somehow that’ll keep the warm yellow liquid from running down my leg for the few extra seconds it’d take to stop typing and make it to the bathroom.




Refreshing.  Have you ever read a blog where the author (NOT blogger… I hate the word blog and anything associated with the word blog… you should know this by now)led you on a visual journey of his or her real life that involved the immediate dictation of the physical activities and thoughts directly tied to the moment before peeing?  If you are reading this sentence and didn’t answer Yes to yourself, then you are dumb.  Plain and simple dumb.  Granted, I feel like the question in general was kind of deceiving in that it’s suggesting that you have not yet read another blog where the author openly admitted that he or she was taking a moment’s pause to pee.  So, company is now here to get on with life and get out to a party.  You will not be reading this on the Saturday that it was written.  You will be reading it on a day that is currently unbeknownst to me.  I like that word.  If I were to ever be on Inside The Actor’s Studio with James Lipton asking me what’s my favorite word, that would be my answer.   Night.  Or whatever.

When life hands you lemons, squirt them in someone else’s eyes … FBG’s Stream Of Conscious

  1. princessvonvoodoo
    2012/04/24 at 5:32 pm

    I personally have never been on a Saturday night pee journey such as this. Bravo.

  2. 2012/04/28 at 8:35 am

    That was an interesting post. I, too, scratch my butt and pee on occasion, but have never mentioned it in my blog (note that I refrained from using the silly verb “I never blogged about it). You have expanded my lame horizons.

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