With a long-awaited return from a land lacking the slightest inkling of inspiration or sympathy for my recurring writer's block, I've once more (cautiously) stepped up to the "Sure, I can write a movie..." plate. My handwriting is so nauseating and originality so nonexistent that if I read my own stuff, my head sometimes starts to spin and my knees buckle, and then I black out, only to find myself huddled in a dark corner hours later desperately trying to figure out why pogs aren't still popular. Oh, the horrors of having delusions of success. But it's better than using a computer for now, because I think that the Microsoft Word Paper Clip is plotting to kill me.. It's those damn eyes. I read the bloodthirst in his eyes. To tell the truth, I couldn't even write "About Me". I don't know what to say. If anybody else figures it out, let me know. I'll be waiting. All I CAN say, though, is that I wish I knew and understood some things sooner in my life and didn't screw everything up so bad. But I had it coming, I guess. And look at me now, I'm stuck here debating over who's cooler between Mr. Peanut and The Energizer Bunny. Bottom line, I need a drink.
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