I've been bored recently. I'm in a rut. I work five days every week, and I often have little to do after the job is finished each day. Some days are better than others, and I actually have some sort of fun post-5:00 plans, but most of the time I run, eat dinner and sit around reading, watching TV or playing guitar. I haven't mustered the effort to write much, though I've certainly thought about posting some thoughts about NHL free agency. But I've found that I'm too stubborn to break my word of not writing about hockey for the summer, and my occasional 140-character Twitter update often gets the point across anyway.
So, I've come up with an idea to climb out of the boredom cave and I think it might be awesome. Of course, I also thought my brilliant Bueller Awards would be awesome too and they flopped harder than Sidney Crosby in a playoff game. Ugh. I hate that kid....deep breaths, deep breaths. No rain cloud game-seven flashbacks on this beautiful Thursday afternoon. On to the idea that will entertain me and this blog for at least a couple weeks and possibly the rest of the summer and beyond:
The Summer Series of Arguments.
You see, I noticed something about myself recently, after Michael Jackson died.
I love to argue.
Why did I realize this after MJ died, you ask? Well, a few people at work were talking about how crazy he was the day after he died. So, I argued how great his music was and that he should be remembered for that and not the zoo of pets and numerous plastic surgeries. But a few days later, a couple friends and I were talking and they said he wasn't crazy. All of those things about child molestation were made up, pure falsities. Naturally, I did a 180 and spoke about how his insanity cannot be forgotten in his legacy. But when it all comes down to it, I really don't care about Michael Jackson dying. I like some of his music, but the guy's a nutjob. It was the arguing I cared about. It really doesn't matter what subject or which person or what time of day. Bickering is my forté.
And, since I'm mostly alone in my apartment and have no one to argue with, I'm going to start doing it here. A weekly installment. Completely biased. Facts will be bent and sometimes broken. Fiction and truth might become synonymous if it helps prove my point. No holds barred.
It starts tomorrow, when I'll be sure to have enough time on my hands (like I do now) to finish a post during work.
On the agenda: Why Daniel Tosh is the funniest, and most truthful, man on the planet.