Problematic

I like to imagine this is just a terribly one-sided conversation. I'm kind of a selfish friend, so it works out pretty well. I like to think if you read this regularly we're just kind of coming together to hangout. Sometimes we may be drinking coffee, sometimes we may be drinking wine, who knows- the beverage options are endless! We chat for three to five minutes about things that range from John Oliver to the inane and then I disappear from your life for days to weeks at a time. POOF! My other desire, I have just now recognized, is for this blog to be one of the top search results when someone looks for John Oliver. And then the restraining order comes. I have pulled my GPA up in two semesters from a 1.7 to a 3.0. My youth was spent in self-medicated tears, so the 3.0 is a more accurate indicator of my capabilities. I'm a B as a person. Not particularly exceptional, but better than passing. I guess the 1.7 was pretty accurate too, I have been a mess. I'm just...

I am running out of ideas. Yet, I have been thinking quite a bit. I keep forgetting to write to you. I have three bananas on my living room table that are about to expire. This is torturous because I was recently scolded by John Oliver for my lack of consideration when it comes to food: Not personally, of course. John Oliver does not know me like that and I think he'd be quite disturbed at being the focus of so many of my blog posts if he did. I was just as horrified to be called out by an HBO show on something I have so often considered a problem but continue to do.  There were seven bananas but I found purpose for four of them by making two smoothies yesterday. I realized I had some chocolate almond milk and nutella and everything finally started to make sense in my surroundings. I am not exaggerating, the moment was genuinely euphoric and I continue to bathe in the light of such kismet.  Other than that I have been drawing with a bit more frequency. I have g...

I have been catching up on Last Week Tonight and I gotta say- I want John Oliver inside me. I do. I really, really do. I want that gangly very-British faced comedian all up in there. "Why?!" you ask. There's the accent, for one. I'm a sucker for an accent. Sure, it would be lovely to meet a buff black gentleman with an English accent in the way of Idris Elba- but I don't know much about Idris Elba's comedic timing. A myriad of unfortunate facial features, not that Oliver has them, could be excused with a good accent and smart comedy. I'm sure a lot of why I have tolerated Scott for so long is the fact that he can make me laugh.  Idris Elba and 8 year relationships be damned, though if I could get a chance with John Oliver. He has me considering working at the IRS! The obvious comedy goldmine that would be a career at the IRS aside- this post is not really about John Oliver and my animalistic sexual attraction toward the man. It's about...