Nothing Continües To Happen

But I might as well alert the world that I will be driving next week, so its residents had better clear the streets/sidewalks/front lawns. I care aboüt driving less and less the more I learn street signs and lanes and watch oütdated movies aboüt other people driving cars and being safe while other people drive their cars. Cars cars cars cars. Try saying "tüna taco" ten times fast. I discovered that one when I was eating a tüna taco for lünckfast.

I guess driving might come in handy now and again. Had I access to a car, I woüldn't have walked a few düll miles in a büggy, hümid drizzle to what Google Maps claimed was a Barnes & Noble, büt was actüally a college filled with tall ümbrella toters. I'll never get my hands on Good Omens üntil tomorrow, it seems.

...Actüally, my dad just paid an ünexpected visit, so now I have a lift to a Barnes & Noble that probably actüally exists. Cool. Üncanny, actüally.

Oh, it's a shame - since I don't have access to a private jet, I can't visit Italy and sample their thoüsand flavoürs of gelato üntil probably never.

...

Okay, no dorkily garbed pilots jüst knocked on the door, so I'll settle for the book. Away I go!

Edit: A WHILE OR TWO LATER

I am now two books richer! (and 16 hard earned monies poorer.) Sweet cyanide, so müch excitement happened while this post was being written. Between that action and all the ümlaüts, it will probably go down as the most interesting post on my blog.

Well, Jüly is ending on a high note. I watched the fantastic movie Twelve Monkeys, ate my first Dairy Qüeen sündae, listened to the Beatles' White Albüm, managed to keep down the Dairy Queen sündae while clütching myself in an agonizing, hallücinogenic haze in the back of a car for two hoürs listening to the Beatles' White Albüm, and regained access to my blog.

In other not-me-related good news, Pratchett's brain soüps may yet have a fighting chance. Now excüse me while I go lock myself in my room, looking for typos in my new books to boost my self confidence and banging my head against the ceiling as I try to participate a certain newly-annoünced drawing contest. I'll be banging my head against the ceiling anyway, since my bed's legs are... in dire need of an axe.

SUPREME MEGAUPDATE: THE XTREME REVISITATION

Actually, "homage", in English, is generally pronounced as "hawwwmidge", with or without the h sound. Only pretentious newscasters and art critics give it the authentic French pronunciation.

Amazing things have happened

Things the likes of which I could never have predicted, things that HAD they not transpired, would never have happened have happened today, and they happened in a way deserving of poetic imagery, metaphor, and art.

The above is a joke! Ha! It's time to laugh now, because my life is still quite boring, like God has writer's block.

Today I ate miso soup, mistook somebody for somebody else, watched a hot red sunset over a milky white lake, thought of a stupid science fiction concept (that we all have a doppelganger made of pure antimatter, somewhere out there in space, and they are hellbent on finding us and canceling us out with them), petted a very large dog, and watched a strange art awards show. The audience laughed collectively and loudly at anything the MC said, although he wasn't trying to be funny, and the man who won the 25k in moolah lost his voice and gave a one-minute "speech". Some people, on the way out, were obviously annoyed about that, but I still feel indebted to him for saving me from horribly boring boredom. Then I walked around a lake and counted my steps for part of the way. I got up to 765. Then i went home, wished I could break into the construction site (there's a little black door in the gate they forgot to lock) but didn't because I'm a pussy, and watched really old Jhonen Vasquez Q&A youtube videos in a happy haze.

...Oh, and I learned that I've been mispronouncing "homage" for all of my life. It's really ohhmauhjhhe, not haaawwmidge.

That was my day. You can stop reading now.