No not that Laurie Halse Anderson YA golden bull. I'm talking about literally speaking. Any of you hate small talk as much as I do? I like to think of myself as introverted because of this. Listen, I don't want to know how your weekend was, what you're majoring, or even what your name is. And I certainly don't care if you care about those things in relation to me. I'll find all this shit out when I creep on your Facebook.
But maybe I just want to be called introverted, because that's what people call Cormac McCarthy and JD Salinger. Don't get me wrong, I'll run you down with my motormouth once we're comfy together, but getting to that point is rough for me. I don't really know how to make friends. This is why I like drinking. I love going to parties, getting tipsy, and mingling with folks about interesting subjects. That whole introductory phase is such nonsense.
So maybe I'm just weird?
Whatever I am, don't ask me how my summer was or what I did. What? You want a list? Let's just take a shot of cheap vodka and work our way past the bullshit and to who you accidentally did the deed with and/or what episode of Six Feet Under made you cry the Nile.
BTW, I'm not an alcoholic. Trust me, I've been analysed. Twice. Goddess Chelsea Handler once said this: "I went out with a guy who once told me I didn't need to drink to make myself more fun to be around. I told him, 'I'm drinking so that you're more fun to be around.'"
That's basically me, but with the whole fucking universe instead of one guy. Does that make me narcissistic? At least I'm not an alcoholic. I have papers if you need proof.
Anyway, I know this is supposed to be a book blog and I'm the all time worst book blogger on Blogger, because all I ever do is ramble about myself, BUT I just recently finished Foxfire by Joyce Carol Oates and it was <3. I should have a review up soon!
Sorry if the breaks between posts have been too long for you bated followers. I just got some financial info from Hiram College. Every time they email me about money owed, my foot twitches to find the rib-cage of some innocent terrier.
Until then, bow down to
PS: I'm not Michael Vicks. The terrier is Hiram's mascot. Off color humor, yeah yeah yeah.
Thanks for reading!