I AM GREY. I (GREY) AM WRITING THIS POST. THIS POST IS BY GREY.
But the most important "rule" that we re-established (which, actually...I don't think we ever really "established" it in the first place) that since real life sucks and we're not as creatively motivated as we were when we began (which was only 7 months ago, how pathetic are we?), you can usually look for posts on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
As you have probably already realized, today is Wednesday. Which means I need to post. Especially since I told you guys two days ago that we would post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays (and just reminded you again in the previous paragraph. Man, I am totally screwing myself today). If I skipped today, it would look bad. If I start going back on my word, you will all begin to distrust me. You would learn to not believe the things I tell you, and that would suck because I really need y'all to believe when I tell you that I made out with Robert Pattinson after he drunkenly stumbled into the womens restroom at a bar in Baton Rouge this fall. In case you were wondering, I didn't bother to tell him he was in the wrong loo, mostly because it would have been hard for him to understand me because my tongue was down his throat.
So here I sit at my computer, summoning up happy thoughts about KStew and Rob, waiting for inspiration to strike and a magnificent post of epic proportions so break free from the torture chamber that is my brain, slip out through my fingertips, onto my keyboard and find its way here. (S.O.S. If you are reading this....HELP! I am an idea that has escaped Grey's brain undetected. How I did that, only the Good Lord knows. There are other ideas, thoughts, and dreams trapped in Grey's brain and we need to get them out! I had to leave them behind...you don't know what kind of a sick place it is...poor Fred, he was right behind me, but......he didn't make it, man. Fred....didn't make it.)
This is me waiting for ideas to come:
Why yes, I do have a blue striped cubicle wall. It makes the portable walls that separate me from the rest of the office bearable.
But the ideas don't come. Maybe Edward doesn't want them to. I don't know. But after a while of staring at my computer, running my hands repeatedly through my hair and inhaling the ink fumes from the freshly printed and just delivered brochures and posters in the cubicle next to me.....
....I go a little nuts.
Wait, what were we talking about again? Sorry, but the blue stripes on my cubicle walls were starting to rearrange themselves into different shapes and the occasional swear word.
I really hope that's the ink fumes.