And the point is whaaaaa?

A lot of times, I feel rather meaningful pressure to write something substantive here on a near-daily basis. Is it, as I discussed earlier on my super-secret blog, because I need to feel like I've made a difference in the world, something The Cavitation Engineer accused me of last week? No, I think it's really because I have very high standards when it comes to entertainment.

Now, when "next blog" surfing, I note that very few people seem to have any standards whatsoever. They blather on about mundanity in a remarkably mundane fashion, only with bad grammar. Like reading a logbook entry. A weB LOGbook entry.

So, tonight, I am going to try my best to replicate that boring, emotionless style that is apparently so popular in this medium. If you find anything not boring or not emotionless in the remainder of this post, I want you to leave me a comment noting it so that I can perfect this style.

Today was double-punch day at Johnny Carino's. Me, CJ, Rico, El Torito, and Tinfoil all went. We love double-punch day because you get two punches (double-punches!) instead of just one on your frequent diner card. Once you get five punches, you get a free lunch. Both me and El Torito got free lunches. We also got two punches on new cards, which you aren't supposed to get no punches at all if you got a free lunch so we're like total scammers.

SCAMMERS!

If we keep that up, we can get a free lunch like every two weeks or some shit. I never did too good at math so I'm not exactly sure.

On the way home, the guys complained that my truck was too loud and slow. Them are fighting words, but I let it slide cuz I'm the new nice Me, CherkyB. What I should of said was its only slow cuz of your big fat lard butthead asses weighing it down and probably going over my 1200 pound payload limit with all the shit for brains you have in your lard ass heads you fuckers get out and walk back while I put it in 4WD and run your stupid lard asses over with my mud tires and make splatters on my rocker panels you dumb bastard fucks.

But what I said was yeah, and I get 12mpg, too. And then I showed them on the overhead computer thing that if you push a couple buttons on shows you how many mpg your getting and how many miles you can go before you run outta gas and some other shit I can't remember like the temperature and north or south or east or west and some other shit too that I can't remember exactly.

Then I worked the rest of the day and nothing exciting happened at all. It was like totally boring.