You’ll have to excuse the sporadic nature of my recent blog updates. I’ve been going through some weird relationship stuff, and I’ve been distracted.
It all sprang from a conversation I had with Beverly, my girlfriend. At dinner one night she suddenly blurted out, “You know, I don’t actually exist. I’m something you made up for a blog post.” I was confused for a moment, but then it occurred to me what she probably meant.
“Are you saying that it seems like I’m more interested in experience for the sake of narrative subject matter, rather than experience for the sake of experience? That I should start living life, instead of just… taking notes on it?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m saying that I literally don’t exist. I’m not a real person. You’re alone, sitting in front of your computer, in a pit-stained tee shirt and ill-fitting underwear, eating a Dominos Chicken Bacon Ranch Oven Baked Sandwich and quietly weeping.”
13 Comments
Oh well, she had a stupid name anyway.
ONLINE QUIZ who is older Beverly Hills or Beverly sills?
Change your shirt. It’s been 4 days.
Just because I don’t exist doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you. Don’t break up with me in a public blog. That’s just old fashioned douchebaggery.
It was this, or Twitter.
Fine. I want my MC Frontalot nightshirt and my Dominos coupon book back. I’m peeing on everything you love. You can go suck it.
Hey Morgan
Let’s go out for some tasty sandwiches now that you’re single!
Aymee
I’m already sucking it, I used all the coupons, and the Frontalot nightshirt is the only thing I love. Checkmate.
Sounds good. Though it does worry me that you and Beverly have the same e-mail address.
Aymee? Seriously? I don’t care how adorably sandwich-loving they are, your girlfriends have terrible names.
We do? That’s so weird.. my computer smells like pee.
I’m in your apartment, Aymee, waiting for you to fall asleep. Mua ha ha ha (twirling my old timey handlebar moustache)
Oh god… Morgan, if I don’t see the light of day, please tell your friend Daisy that Aymee is a family name. I’m not gonna lie, I’m afraid, very afraid of drifting off to sleep with a hormonally challenged imaginary ex girlfriend of yours in my apartment. If I do somehow die in my sleep, I will save a seat for you in Heaven where we will dine on Dominos Chicken Bacon Ranch Oven Baked Sandwiches and never get full. Save me.
Post a Comment