dear sir or madam;

Dear Sir or Madam,

Today was a weird day. I read another couple chapters of my book (I'm almost done, it is turning out to be the most cynical, fucked up book I have ever read), and worked from 10-4. The work is very tedious, and I find myself wandering off a lot of the time when I am there. Dear God, its only day 2 of 7. On a plus side, they ordered in pizza for lunch, yum. It was processed by Jesus, said so on the box.

Band was indifferent, we got a lot accomplished, cleaned parts of the show, reviewed "memorized" parade music, and stood in arc for a long while. Whenever I play high, my right cheek puffs out, it sucks.

I hope you realize I would have loved for you to be able to stay the night, but my parents would not allow it, and I hope it didn't make you feel worse. I hate it when you are sad, and whenever I can, I will try to make you feel better.

If the time ever comes that I can be your Jim, I'll be there. But I am perfectly content being Michael, Dwight, Ryan, Toby, Angela, Meredith, Stanley, Phyllis, Oscar and Creed. I hope you'll be my Office too.

In other news, I don't suppose I have anything else to report. In time these posts will become more blog-worthy, but I am still getting used to them. I know, I think I'll slowly write a short story. Lets start.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Fuck he thought, this was going to be a long night.

I love you Grace Kelly.