my vocabulary is too small

I haven’t been writing much. Yes. It’s been months since I’ve written anything substantial. So excuse these next few paragraphs as I rid myself of my own immaturity.

My inactivity in the realm of writing? I blame television.

Actually, it’s not so much television. It’s OnDemand movies, available in completely worthless cable packages. My eyes have been gently raped by an incredibly questionable selection of movies in the past month:

Hot Rod, The Condemned, She’s All That, Paul Blart: Mall Cop, Eagle Eye.

I’ve seen Made of Honor five times¹.

My roommate–the dastardly one who holds the cable contract–claims I need better self control. Oh, okay. Sure. Why don’t you take a recovering coke addict, drop ten kilos of coke² in the middle of his living room, and tell him, “Hey man, self control.”

Yes, I just compared television to coke. Do not call me unreasonable. I KNOW what is unreasonable, and what is unreasonable, is any sane man watching Made of Honor five times.

Whew³.
—
1) Can you blame me? OMGPatrickDempsey. Excited gasp!
2) Contrary to what you may believe, I have no idea how much 10 kilos of coke actually is. All I know is it sounds like you’d get fucked up.
3) Okay. I think I can stay television-sober for a few months until they start playing 27 Dresses every hour again.