Hello again all. I am ashamed to admit that I've been shirking my civic duties this election year.
What do you mean? We haven't even had the vote yet! you might be asking.
I know, and I *will* participate in that. But I have not fulfilled my Sacred American Duty of posting ten million angry comments about how I feel about the candidates/shared various mudslinging ads regarding said candidates/joined any Facebook groups to show solidarity with other people who are so darn angry about the candidates for whatever reason.
I know...I'm a horrible person .*insert sarcasm here*
So...to prove that I do believe in good old fashioned democracy, I'm gonna ask y'all to cast your vote. What topic would you like me to tackle for my next post? Your options are...
*My theory on how government reform can be achieved with tampons
*How the economy can be saved by Hollywood
*My airline curse and how I deal with it
OR
*Some other topic you think I should write about
DISCLAIMER: I make no promises on how quickly this post will come out. I am deep in the throes of writing a midterm paper/stressing about upcoming work events/trying to figure out how I can drop ten pounds ASAP. But...I do want to get more posts out there. Soon. And remember...this blog is about humor. So if you try to give me a serious topic, expect me to take a not so serious approach to it.
Anyhoo, sleep aid is kicking in. I didn't sleep well at all last night and these next two days are going to be hard core, so I need my sleep.
Leave me some love! Peace out!
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
The Title (A Post About The Title)
Hello all.
I have a blog now. Isn't that great?
If you're reading this first entry, chances are you're someone who knows me personally. So I'm gonna skip the introductions. Read my profile if you want more details. And keep coming back to the blog.
Even if you do know me, you probably need a little explanation on the title of this blog. When I was a baby, I decided crawling was not the way to go (probably because my childhood home had old, nasty hardwood floors). So I decided to get around by scooting on my butt. This resulted in my childhood nickname of Scooter.
There's more to this story.
Not only did I spend my early years developing an aversion to hardwood floors, I also developed a love of writing. My parents have pictures of me with books in my crib. Before I even knew how to read, I loved books. I would make up stories just from looking at the pictures. And as soon as I figured out how to read and write...well, I kept making up stories.
My parents --- especially my dad --- took notice of my interest in writing and were very supportive. He started telling me every other minute that I needed to write a book. He continues to do so to this day. A typical agenda for my dad looks like this:
Wake up. Eat. Honk at annoying drivers on the way to work. Play on computers/work. Tell Scooter to write. Drive home and honk at more annoying drivers. Tell Scooter to write. Watch angry shouting political commentary. Tell Scooter to write. Listen to bizarre music. Eat at computer so he can watch more angry shouting political commentary on YouTube. Tell Scooter to write. Vow not to watch more angry shouting political commentary, then takes a phone call in which he describes his current political angst to whoever is calling, which gets him so riled up he must now watch more angry shouting political commentary. Decide he has had enough for one day. Go upstairs to bed and watches the evening news, which includes a feature with angry shouting political commentary. Sleep. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Is this an exaggeration? Of course. It would be more accurate to subtract some of the "angry political commentary" bits and substitute "take ten million pictures of flowers."
But the bit about him egging me on to write is not an exaggeration. Not in the slightest.
Now here I am...for your blogging pleasure. I make no promises on how frequently I'll write, or what all I will write about. I'm taking the "Seinfeld" approach. Consider this your blog about nothing.
So come visit The World According to Scooter if you need a break from your own. I'll try to be entertaining for you.
P.S. Thanks Dad.
I have a blog now. Isn't that great?
If you're reading this first entry, chances are you're someone who knows me personally. So I'm gonna skip the introductions. Read my profile if you want more details. And keep coming back to the blog.
Even if you do know me, you probably need a little explanation on the title of this blog. When I was a baby, I decided crawling was not the way to go (probably because my childhood home had old, nasty hardwood floors). So I decided to get around by scooting on my butt. This resulted in my childhood nickname of Scooter.
There's more to this story.
Not only did I spend my early years developing an aversion to hardwood floors, I also developed a love of writing. My parents have pictures of me with books in my crib. Before I even knew how to read, I loved books. I would make up stories just from looking at the pictures. And as soon as I figured out how to read and write...well, I kept making up stories.
My parents --- especially my dad --- took notice of my interest in writing and were very supportive. He started telling me every other minute that I needed to write a book. He continues to do so to this day. A typical agenda for my dad looks like this:
Wake up. Eat. Honk at annoying drivers on the way to work. Play on computers/work. Tell Scooter to write. Drive home and honk at more annoying drivers. Tell Scooter to write. Watch angry shouting political commentary. Tell Scooter to write. Listen to bizarre music. Eat at computer so he can watch more angry shouting political commentary on YouTube. Tell Scooter to write. Vow not to watch more angry shouting political commentary, then takes a phone call in which he describes his current political angst to whoever is calling, which gets him so riled up he must now watch more angry shouting political commentary. Decide he has had enough for one day. Go upstairs to bed and watches the evening news, which includes a feature with angry shouting political commentary. Sleep. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Is this an exaggeration? Of course. It would be more accurate to subtract some of the "angry political commentary" bits and substitute "take ten million pictures of flowers."
But the bit about him egging me on to write is not an exaggeration. Not in the slightest.
Now here I am...for your blogging pleasure. I make no promises on how frequently I'll write, or what all I will write about. I'm taking the "Seinfeld" approach. Consider this your blog about nothing.
So come visit The World According to Scooter if you need a break from your own. I'll try to be entertaining for you.
P.S. Thanks Dad.
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