I want to blog like Lindsay wants a drink!

Shit man, I'm starting to get jealous. Here's why. My buddy Elliott writes some of the best blogs I've ever read. Read them here. And his blogs inspire me to begin writing my own again, but, unfortunately, I have nothing to write about.
I've been less rantly lately. In fact, I think my latest rant was about someone I know who rants a lot.
I haven't been doing many interesting things. By interesting, I mean getting totally shit-faced and making an ass out of myself, which is what past blogs have been about.
And, honestly, I have no desire to write blogs about "the human condition" and where I sit in that pile of stench.
So as I sit here writing the above, I still don't know what to write, so this is gonna be freestyle. Besides correcting punctuation, grammar, and spelling, I'm not going to go back and fix anything, this is stream of conciousness which will go on for as long as I please. So here we go.
I just fed my dog a banana. I did this for two reasons: 1. He likes them, and apparently Split Pea tells me she learned from doing research on Spaniels that they apparently love bananas, which he does, as well as apples. I also fed him it because my wife apparently let him completely run out of food, so, you know... starving dog. He's laying in front of the heater, but seriously, I don't want to write about my dog, because, seriously, blogs about my dog? Blah. That's the reason I haven't been blogging, 'cause who wants to read about that shit.
So I got laid off from my job, and I can't really blog about that because blogging about your job, good or bad, can really bite you in the ass. So I stay away from that. I could tell you about the job search and unemployment, but really... boring!
Yeah, that's right, I used an exclaimation point. I was taught in college that you are only allowed to use one exclaimation point a year, so use it wisely. Since the year's almost up, I can afford to waste it here. My professor in college, said that there's a reason an exclaimation point looks like a baseball bat, because it beats people across the face, so unless that's what you're trying to do, don't use it. My last job required me to do copy writing, this wasn't real copy writing, mind you, it was the kind where I was encouraged to use exclaimation points after every freaking sentence. Example: Spring in Paris! Space is limited! Sign up now!
I actually told my boss I refused to use exclaimation points. Maybe that's why I got laid off.
Anyway, I'm writing about my last job and I said I wasn't going to do that.
So, I'm a bit hungry because I got up freakishly early considering I stayed up late with Elliott and his friend who is back in town from Afrikka (that's right, Afrikka, as in Bambatta. Recognize). Anyway, the three of us were up late drinking beer and B.S.ing following our not-so-monumentous night out playing trivia at a pub.
Tonight we're returning to this same pub for karaoke. I think I may sing some Beatles.
Anyway, I'm hungry and want to make some food, but I'm really cravin a spinach and tomato sandwhich, but I need to make pesto, and the food processor is loud and Elliott is sleeping (which he will be till noon) so either he gets waken up by a food processor when I get too hungry to handle it, or I starve.
Speaking of, Split Pea and I thought Elliott was dead the other day. Here's why: He usually sleeps late on his days off, because, you know if you went to the link above like I effing told you to, you would know he works late. Anyway, he sleeps late. The other day, 3pm rolls around, and I tell Split Pea that Elliott's still asleep. She's worried. I call him from within the house, which, I know, it's weird, but less obtrusive than knocking. He doesn't answer. Finally 5pm rolls around, and Split Pea decides to knock on his door. She does, then goes in. He's not there. Later we told each other we thought we might have to poke a dead body with a stick, which would be my first. So now, though, I'm thinking, if he's not in his room, and he's not answering his phone, he's dead in the Sound.
The night before, Elliott got off work late. He called and told me he was waiting for a bus, which were all backed up by the Seahawks game. I went to bed shortly after, so never saw him, and was unsure if he ever came home. Having waken up really early for me (7pm) I knew he had never got up and left the house without Split Pea or I knowing. So I was certain now that he had gone to catch a bus, got mugged, the stabbed, then his body was thrown into the sound.
He was working. I know, I know, boring ending, but there it is. Split Pea and I thought he had the day off. He didn't. He had to work really early.
So I'm going to see my friends from my past life in Spokane this weekend as one of my closest friends gets married.
Which will be fun, but probably won't have any debaucherous stories to write about. So don't be anticipating a story about having to crack a bouncer across the face with a broken beer bottle after trying to grab a strippers ta-tas, 'cause it probably won't happen. We're all older, wiser, and married now.
So that concludes this little test. I'm gonna go read, or eat, or, shit man, I dunno watch T.V.--I'm unemployed remember?
Hope you enjoyed reading this, I'll try to come up with something better to write about next time.