I sit here in a darkened room sullenly typing this Monday morning message for a multitude of miserly misanthropes. With a dour expression on my face, I silently consume a heaping bowl of Froot Loops; their bright, sugary tang an unwelcomed counterpoint to my dreary spirit.
Undaunted, I heap one spoonful after another into my acne-ridden, expressionless face.
Setting aside the bowl of children’s cereal so grotesquely inappropriate for me, a man of 30 years, I now turn to the issue of my blog. My hatred of blogs is severe, and this blog is no exception. It is clear to me that 99% of blogs are a vapid, clumsily-worded expression of the utter awfulness of the human plight. Ironically, I am compelled to submit myself to the haunted writhings of the barking blog-trolls thrice weekly, like a bum’s diseased dog returning to said bum’s vomit.
With my lips parted and my eyes drooped, I rotely type up 150 words on a meaningless topic before hitting the “Publish” button. I do not bother to proofread the day’s entry. To do so would be more dreary than the act of blogging itself, and I’ve got to brush my teeth, another doleful deed that I disdain.
I hope this post made you hate me.