...to defeat the Huns! HU! I diverged from my original intent of this blog. It somehow got established in my mind that my posts should have some sort of great message to it, or sound just smashing. And while that does happen, that's not real life - which is what it's supposed to be about. I'm striving for growth, not perfection. This is what happens when a simple person tries to make each post as eloquent as possible. Let's remember who we're talking about here. I'm the person who put cheese grease on her lips, whilst eating grilled cheese sandwiches, to substitute for lip gloss. The same person who, still, uses Febreze as a fragrance. There's not much eloquence to me. Though I have my moments of epiphanies, and I greatly enjoy writing them out, I'm kinda tired of waiting for them in order to write. So, with that being said, here's a post about nothing really important.
Dick Grayson will forever be the best Robin in my eyes. As you probably figured out from above, I'm not a very classy person. I've become addicted to instagram because I just figured out last week the function of hashtags. I ate my hot dogs with mustard, ketchup, and onions ( and sometimes relish), and chilli dogs made me very, very happy. I belong in a boyband, mainly because of my dancing. When I snap in my seatbelt belt buckle after peeing, I feel like a superhero suiting up - but only in public bathrooms. I've only had cheesecake once and it was homemade and not very good. I'm writing most of this at 1:48am because I'm a night owl, I have sleep apnea, and the two combined = I can't sleep. There are 1990's Batman baby quilts on my bed, none of which I grew up with; I bought them 2 years ago, when I was 18. My right hip/pelvis/leg/back hurts right now. I don't feel like listing pointless things anymore. And there you have it, a blog post to break the streak of pointfilled blog posts. Yay! Good. Now that that's done, I want carrot cake and milk.
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