Well, I (as you probably have noticed anyway) have changed my blogskin! *audience lets out overwhelming applause, cheers* Thank you. *bows to the audience* I know I am very famous.
(Oh dear me, I think some skit is starting to seep into my writing! Oh no! Get a fire extinguisher here quick! A team of medics! Barack Obama! Anything!)
*audience has alternately fallen asleep, been sprayed with fire extinguisher foam, resuscitated by EMTs, lectured on health care reforms, and trampled by a horde of "Anything"s*
Speaking of my famous-ness, and of course, my undeniable wonderful-ness (Now I'm starting to sound like Lockhart. Or maybe it was Keyhart. Anyway, insignificant people, back to the point.), I stumbled across something when doing a random Pipl.com search today. (You should try it too, it's great for paranoia maniacs who are convinced that the world has to have been stalking them.)
Interestingly enough, I happened across a blog post that was dated on my birthday last year. And I'm pretty sure it didn't turn up the last time, because I checked. All I discovered were some less... interesting stuff. It's rare to suddenly pop up in the post of somebody you've not contacted in more than two years. Weird.
Who can you consider a best friend? One that you were close to for a year? Hell, how do you even know who's a friend, and who isn't? Can somebody not be either, or both? The line seems so thin, yet the gap so wide...
I'm just so tired...
