David Ortiz. WHATEVER. Some people have DECISIONS to make.
I refuse to read the article.
Yes, I know what it says.
But I’m not going to read it.
I am NOT going to watch the news.
And I am NOT going to read your comments telling me how shitty Papi is to fans.
Won’t do it. AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME.
I named my puppy after him, damnit. WE SHARE A BOND. We LOVE each other. He loves me and I love him and he hits home runs and he would never ever never ever EVER forsake us. STOP LYING, WORLD.
I canNOT lose anyone else.
On another note, another reason I refuse to read this David Ortiz nonsense, is because I have an actual-real-life dilemma. I have a decision to make. Like, an adult one. A big fricking adult monsoon of a decision. And, since I have provided endless entertainment to you for the past few months, the least (and I mean the very LEAST) you could do is help me in the decision making process. If you’d like to help, PLEASE e-mail me, firstname.lastname@example.org. Because sometimes strangers give great advice. Put DECISION in the subject heading. Oh, and if you have any experience WHATSOEVER with the south coast area of Mass., you better e-mail me. Because. Um. I HAVE AN ADULT DECISION.
So. Deciding. Riiiiighhhht now.
Apparently these ADULT decisions don’t pop up when… I don’t know… you’re desperate… or you’re looking (like REALLY looking)… they only pop up when you’ve figured out you’re kind of happy with the status quo, your friends, your life, your job and your boyfriend. It’s complacency. THAT, my friends, is when the monsoon strikes. JUST ASK THE RED SOX. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m almost ready to talk about it.
But seriously. If anyone ever doubted God’s existence- and I mean EVER, they can look upon a moment a couple weeks ago where I said, “You know what? I could be happy like this,” and then that moment a few hours ago when God was like, “BUT WHAT IS BEHIND DOOR NUMBER TWO?” Because high powers like reality television too.
I am being cryptic because I am CAFFEINATED.
I love some caffeine.
That’s a southernism. When you insert the “some” just randomly into your sentence. Like Y’all (or is it Ya’ll? WHEN am I going to LEARN?) sure have some confused looks on yer faces.
This reminds me of that moment in Back to the Future (is it the first one?) where he’s all, “where we’re going we don’t need roads!”
It’s like… where I’m going, I won’t need y’all… I mean, I will still need all of you. Just not necessarily the word y’all. I think I just saw a cat fly across the room.
My point is- and I DO have one-
It’s I am clearly not mature enough to make any decisions ever-whatsoever and I’d like all of you in America to decide for me.
I am going to bite my nails until you e-mail me.
Ohmygod I just got bribed with Red Sox tickets. Ohmygod.