Somebody Stop Me

I could think of less excruciating things to do.  Like cleaning out the garage.  Or folding more laundry.  My time would most certainly be better spent doing those things as a matter of fact.  Instead, I am torturing myself for quite a while each day.

Look, it's not like I'm a huge fan of pain or anything.  I never once had the urge to become a cutter.  I think aspirin is a wonderful thing and should be taken when necessary.  I am all for avoiding pain as often as possible.  Really.  But I just can't stop.  And it's bad.

It's my latest flavor of the blogosphere.  I mentioned this a couple times, right?  I found this blog last week and decided to read through all the archives because that is a totally normal and not psychotically obsessive thing to do at all.  I can't stop reading.  I'm still only in 2007.  My god, he writes a lot.  It's practically cruel to put people through this.

But eventually, somewhere in all these piles and piles of words, I am going to find something about this guy that isn't insanely charming.  I'm desperately hoping he has said something blatantly obnoxious in the past three years because there has GOT to be some shred of evidence to convince me that this crush I have developed is completely unwarranted.

That possibility seems a bit bleak at the moment.

The post he wrote today practically made me swoon to death. 

You're shaking your head now.   I know.  I'm an idiot.  I am painfully, painfully aware of that.   Because he did email me back.  And that was very cool.  at first.  But now it seems more like an e-Heisman.  Yet here I am.  reading anyway.  I should know better.

This is the part of the movie where I get a swift, sense-restoring smack. 
Because 1,000 miles away makes this whole idea completely irrational.