It's Not You, It's Me

First and foremost, I'd like to apologize for my extended absence. My prolonged hiatus was contributed to a few unfortunate and unmitigated circumstances, upon which I will now reflect.

My sister recently informed me that there is a program at Busch Stadium which allows anyone with a military ID to get a Standing Room Only pass for free. Yes, that's right, I can now go to any Cardinals game I wish to for free and sit wherever someone isn't a sittin'. BOO-YAH! (Do people still say that? God, I'm lame.) So, needless to say, I don't have as much free time to write absolute and complete fucking nonsense into some stupid blog. Bitches.

Also, the professor in my Econ class looks a hell of a lot like Philip Seymore Hoffman. And if you can't see how that would be disturbing, than you're "an idiot...a fucking idiot" and "that's marvelous."

Finally, please read this story before reading the rest of my post.

As you may or may not know, my New Years Resolution was to meet Burt Reynolds
something, which, I can proudly say, I was quite committed to.

But now, fearing for my own safety, I have reluctantly called off my search for Burt Reynolds. It is now obvious that not only has he been avoiding me for six months now, but that he has grown testy from his years and months of hiding from his various stalkers. In some sort of weird twist straight out of "The Running Man", I think he might have now begun hunting me and the others who search out for The Colonel. Ryan Meismer of Chicago, Il: consider yourself warned.

"So, what's my new resolution," you ask?

"Well, thank you for asking. Your manners are on par with those of the finest Southern Gentlemen or Belle, depending upon your gender, which I can not see at this time as we are communicating through what is known as 'The Internet'... a complex system of servers, routers, wires, and computers, which allows virtual anonymity for it's users," I respond.

Let's just say that the new resolution starts with an "upper" and ends with a "deck." And if you think I talking about a baseball stadium, then just keep thinking that and don't worry about what that smell is.

America, consider yourselves warned.

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"I'll be dead in the cold, cold ground before I recognize the state of Missouri."