Thou[disjointed]ghts

I should be writing a paper.

It's due tomorrow, after all. I haven't even started.

My printer isn't working quite right, I downloaded three different drivers. I finally figured it out; I didn't have the USB plugged into the printer itself. I feel like a jackass.

Which isn't all that unusual.

Smashing Pumpkins. Don't ask.

I should call the parents and inform them that I may need to use their printer. But my phone's in the car. And, I mean, I could go to the car and get it. But if I do, one thing will lead to another, and I'll be chowing down on a Big Mac feeling like I'm going to die.

Probably choking down tears.

Though I could always use their bathroom. Clog someone else's toilet for a change. Too much detail? Meh.

I mean, what can I say? I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one. No disrespect intended.

Instead, I cope with the world-shattering loneliness and self-defeating isolation that plagues so many members of the Internet culture, wherein personal contact is devalued in favor of electronic dialog.

Also, the cap on my toothpaste is off, so what's left is probably crusty.

I'm so cheap that I try to figure out how to get that last bit of paste out, even though it's shaped wrong at the end and won't squeeze right.

Perfect time to say: That's what she said. I am the master of recycled zingers.

I swear, my mind is like a river. The River Styx, maybe. Damn, now I have "Come Sail Away" stuck in my head.

Why am I writing this? Moreover, why are you reading this?

Oh, paper, right. The more I write here, the less I have to think about it. Literature isn't so bad, and neither is this assignment. I'm just lazy.

Which brings me back to the phone. What if someone calls? Nobody calls. Why are you answering your own questions? It's in italics, so that denotes a separate voice. Consider me your first-person narrator, just not of my thoughts. Of a character who just happens to be me.

I don't think this is supposed to be funny. Which is good, since it probably isn't... And my leg is numb.

Have you ever felt guilty about not wearing pants in your own room? Me neither.