Yeah, no.
I’m pretty sure that’s a paragraph. I believe I’ve demonstrated my ability to write a traditional paragraph (ok, so maybe it was prior to Jesus’ 2000th birthday, and sure, no record of it actually exists, like my Canadian Girlfriend on 1973. I think they both burned down in the same tragic house fire that was totally an accident. Just read the affidavit.). I have a really good excuse. Ok I have an excuse and if I had to pick just one qualifier I think a ’Really excuse’ would be more honest than a ‘Good Excuse’.
I used to be really good at insomnia (again, really insomnia is closer to the mark than good insomnia). If insomnia were included in the Olympic summer games I wouldn’t qualify. My amateur status is so small in the rearview I’m damn creeping up on it from behind (Oh. You’d like that wouldn’t you, you naughty, naughty, naughty amateur status.) Wait, where was I? Um, am I? Were I? What? What.
That is totally a paragraph look it up. Under Drools comma Haredawg in Shitharedawgprobablysaid.com, no, stop, not the picture of a bowling ball, further down, it should read; it’s totally a paragraph. Shall read? Once and will again read?
Yeah, No.
Sleep deprivation is a bitch and not the kind you’d take home to meet your mother. Like water off a decoy ducks wood hewn pin feathers (which, by the by, can be used as toothpicks in an emergency. Ok, maybe we have different types of emergency. Let’s just agree that you’re wrong and move on. If a toothpick emergency were to arise in your obviously sheltered lives it’s most likely to occur when you are duck hunting, even if, or especially if, heretofore you’ve never even considered crouching in an icy cold river for hours waiting to blow the living bejesus out of a duck. Besides you don’t even know if it’s duck season or wabbit season. Don’t take the wabbit’s word on it. Again.)
Yeah, no.
Now that I’ve established that it could be a paragraph if it wanted to (it doesn’t even want to play in your stupid reindeer games anyhow) I might as well treat it like a duck (or, you know, wabbit. Whatever.) and blow the living bejesus out of it. I have a really excuse; I have the really insomnia.
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