Hello, Beautiful.

If you're anything like me, then the title of this post is incredibly accurate. Also, if you're anything like me, then you have high hopes for this blog and will continue to read even when common sense tells you it's probably a good idea to do something else, such as bathe or roll over to avoid bedsores. 


I was going to make a bold attempt at avoiding the Myspace-style introduction that so many bloggers type up as their first post, but there's something to be said for tradition. I'm Drew, a 20 year old college student, and I have far too many opinions for just my brain alone. Even at such a young age, I've done wondrous things that the elderly and decrepit only dream of having achieved in their lifetimes. These experiences contain, but are not limited to, attending a junior college, living in the same city my whole life, and even daring to cohabitate with my parents long past the point most people would rather play a game of Russian Roulette than continue living the existence I've chosen for myself. 


I know, it's g-l-a-m-o-r-o-u-s. Truly, we flyin' first class up in the sky. First class, livin' the life. In the fast lane, and no, I won't change. By the glamorous, ooh, the flossy, flossy.


See that? See what I did there? That's a reference to Glamorous by Fergie, a person on which I have aforementioned opinions(you know, the ones that are far too vast and intellectual to keep to myself), and I know what you, dear nonexistent reader, are thinking; you recognized that reference, and you might have even heard some faint tune in your head as you read through my ingenious allusion. And while you grasped the depth of the reference, you weren't quite sure exactly what I was referencing until I revealed it to you.


Now, after the above paragraph, you might be thinking two things. One, that the word "reference" is starting to sound really weird in your head, and you're not even sure if it's a word anymore. If you're not thinking that yet, then read the following out loud: reference reference reference reference reference reference reference reference reference reference reference reference reference reference reference reference reference. If it still sounds like a word, then you're either a zombie or maybe a cat, and I applaud you for your ability to grasp modern technology despite your lack of organic life/thumbs. 


The second thing you might be thinking is, am I going to be enjoying such witty repartee("witty repartee" is actually redundant, since the definition of "repartee" is 'a witty reply'. Keep that weapon stored away for a rainy day, you never know when some douche bag is going to brag about his "witty repartee" and you, being the awesome grammar police that you are, can knock him down a peg with your superiority) on a regular basis? The answer is yes. Not only will you be enjoying my witty repartee, but you'll be enjoying me, which I believe is rated as one of the top ways to experience both internal and external pleasure in the country. If you've never experienced Drew-induced exo- and endopleasure before, then my, you are in for quite the treat.


So what has this post taught us? Well, I've learned that I try to guess what people are thinking far too often. I've also learned that my already-short attention span has dwindled down to almost nothing, seeing as I completely and totally forgot to think of more things I learned because my phone made the seagull noise it makes when I get a Twitter update and when I was reading through my new Tweets, someone posted a link to something interesting, so instead of looking at the link on the computer I'm sitting in front of, I started browsing the internet on my phone, which is way less convenient seeing as my phone is roughly 1/20 the size of my monitor.


By the way, it's not exactly my monitor, or my computer. My laptop, which was like a child to me, died a mysterious and undeserved death about three weeks ago, so I've been sharing my parents' desktop until I manage to find a job that doesn't make me convulse with self-loathing and can buy a new computer for myself. The chair I'm sitting in is less of a computer chair and more of a ticking time bomb, because every time I move slightly it starts creaking in what can only be described as a threatening manner, which I've decided to take personally. My belief is that the chair knows I'm not a rightful own(THE SEAGULLS WENT OFF AGAIN!)er of the computer, and in its attempt to punish me, will someday collapse and impale my body on a combination of cherry wood and disdain.


While it's nothing to write home about, I took the liberty of throwing together a quick doodle for my banner. I do a lot of drawing in my spare time, mostly pictures of animals having tea parties, and I might throw in an appropriate illustration from time to time. 


Reader(s), I love you already. I feel a bond forming. Please, let's do this again some time. Forget about all those stupid rules, like, "Oh, I can't call him yet, I just read his blog post last night. It's too soon, he'll think I'm desperate." Trust me, I won't. In fact, you might think I'm a little desperate. But that's okay.