Reciprocal Sponge.

I'd like to settle the score now and forever. The irritating truth is that I sweat like a motherfucker.

Here I am, satiated from my morning fix of dark, disgusting coffee, flattered by the elated mood that I am currently in. Actually, it is more of a darkly humorous mixture--I've never understood the meaning of 'dark humor' and if there was any more of an appropriate time to use it, than, dammit it is now. Anyways, I feel like a whole bag of blips and bloops, a botched fanny pack sort of member pledging my allegiance to some funny named society that bases its hipness off of the acronym that it has claimed. No one else has ever possibly thought of such an acronym and certainly will not do so in any near future.

But back to the pits of this story. Disgusting as it is, I've come to terms with it, just as how I have realized I will never be six foot fourteen or have the ability to roll my R's. But that's okay. Seemingly, there really is nothing to discuss, except for the fact that my mind finds itself in a state where blankly staring off into the marble walls of the library or the cloudy film covers of these age-old books feels like a fantastic way to pass the time. But then again, I am hungry. And sweaty.

Real sweaty. Let's go find food and add some more pounds to society.