I just realized something today. And I thought about it last night, as I sat, bored out of my mind, watching the Golden Globes, that at night, I always think about a million things to blog about. Then, morning comes, and I totally forget what I remembered to blog about. So, either I'm getting really old and my short term memory is shot (which could be from the weed and not old age) or I'm just a complete idiot that can't remember my own name most of the time.
Believe it or not, at one point and time asking me my name was the most confusing question you could have asked me. Well, besides asking me questions about the meaning of life, what position do I prefer, how many times I take a shit a week, and multiplying 40 times 1. The reason for this, if you have the time and the interest to actually give a shit, is due to getting married. Yes, I know, it shouldn't be that confusing - you get married and before you walk the plank you have already contemplated taking his name or not. And I did. However, three months into the marriage we split up. So, what is my last name? The ink isn't even dry on the marriage license, I haven't changed the name on my drivers license, and I probably won't keep the last name considering we were all but divorced. So, I get pulled over and the cop was very confused - I had one last name on my insurance card (it was changed after I got married) and another on my drivers license (my maiden name). And then I had to explain why. Which sucked because, as you can already tell, that's a long ass fucking story.
I digress. I was actually hoping to remember what I was going to blog about by wasting time telling a stupid story about my almost divorce. Oh well. I think it's time to lay off the weed for a while.
