It’s some hour of the afternoon that I’m sure I could work up a small blush regarding waking from what I’m sure was a fine nap. Two sures in one sentence, that’s confidence for ya. I think for the rest of the year I’ll stop being a haredawg apologist, I was hoping it would catch on, but, sadly, no.
Thing is I used to crank these things out daily. If I had changed my wicked Modus Operendi to a weekly affront albeit polished with affront wax (and maybe some behind wax), whittled into the shape of something recognizable, maybe all dolled up with Sunday-go-to-Box language, I wouldn’t feel the tug towards apology.
It’s not like my apologies are very sincere otherwise this thing that aspires to one day be a paragraph would be apologizing for the apologies. Yes, that’s as far snark-ward as the drools bus travels; it stops just shy of smart ass apologies for the previous insincere apologies. The fifty two entry year would use the word disingenuous in this nascent sentence.
Talk Nascent to me, baby.
I told a story out-loud last night that I haven’t told in a long time. The story would make objective sense to anyone, rambling around in a circle sense, but anyone who’s heard one of my tales knows well enough to either grab a pillow or a door knob. No double entendre intended but I don’t suspect that to dissuade you lot.
Yes, the story is broad, the point of it and the getting of said point was tailored made to fit. I mean it was tailor made as it was occurring, lo these many moons, and I could retell it, I reckon, I shant. Like many of my real life adventures the one story is like the ring master; to his right a dancing bear, left a fiery sword swallower and behind him either a cream pie or a horse pie. Even in the past tense my tales always seem to still be in progress, that’s just the nature of nonfiction; the protagonist has yet to meet his reward (heh, that’s optimistic).
Whereas I’m hardly smug, I am pretty satisfied with where the story has brought me to date, though it feels a bit like Spielberg is directing; Yes it looked like the pecker-headed alien was dead. He wasn’t. Sorry, didn’t mean to spoil Schindlers list for ya.
Word to the wise (like I’d even know how to pronounce it)? Do not attempt talk to text with the letter ess. I don’t care how crisp your diction is, it will come out ass. I mean it will type ass where you said ess, though, after several experiments (many of which came out as Ass Period) I was able to get capital ess followed by the punctuation commonly referred to in English as a period. I’m not sure what an ass period is but I’m sure when they advertise for the product, likely with wings, there will be a couple running on a beach with a dog, probably a collie. Just once I’d like to see an erectile dysfunction or woman’s hygiene product advertised without a beach or a dog or both. I understand with ED you don’t want sand on a limp member but I’d sure like to know why the dog in the after video. No, I guess, I wouldn’t.
I’d have the same concern with feminine hygiene products but I can’t figure out how to voice that concerns that wouldn’t involve a few more insincere apologies.
The voice commands remind me of the old software Dragon Naturally Speaking. I think IBM bought it but that it was originally released under the Barnum and Bailey brand. Those ads needed a dog. A dog can type better than Naturally Speaking. Naturally Speaking was the whoopee cushion of the digital age.
Um, I’m going to walk backwards and trail off … Haredawg Drools is probably real sorry. Sure he is.
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