:(

OK I know it’s Friday, but it’s time you TGIF’ers got knocked down a peg so I’m bringing out the emoticons, specifically the sad one. Today I’m going to talk about things that normally make people happy and why they make me sad.

You all know this little guy. The trusty, loyal friend that’s always there for you with a stupid, comedic sitcom when you’re blue or some sappy romance movie when you’re…well, blue. Well, you get my point. The TV is a fine piece of friendship furniture. It doesn’t judge you, no matter how often you watch Bad Girls Club, it’s not needy, and it perfectly molds itself to all wants and desires, however inane or perverse.

But I’m onto the TV, and this is why it makes me sad. I can’t fully enjoy my stories like the rest of you dopes, because my brain is simple and malleable and so quickly absorbs jokes and story lines. And because my brain is simple, and probably because it’s so small, my last bits of creativity, originality, and childhood memories are basically shoved into the colon of my brain and pooped out of my ear. I don’t remember ages five through seven, but  I can recite innumerable jokes and story lines from I Love Lucy, Parks and Recreation, and Seinfeld without batting an eye. I make clever jokes and repartee without a second thought, mentally patting myself on the back for my ingenuity, only to be reminded that my banter is from The Office. Verbatim. Ok, take a deep breath and keep pushing forward (that’s what she said).

Yes, I hate that Spam too, but we’re talking about internet sad face stuff and if you buy actual Spam online then this is not the blog for you. Email is probably the coolest danged thing ever. It’s the perfect form of communication. It’s not as instant as instant messenger, but ten million times faster than regular mail. There are no obnoxious photos, videos, apps, games, or lame status updates to spoil its subliminal existence; it is near perfect. Enter spam mail. Spam mail (including everything from hacked spam accounts to newsletters I probably signed up for, but don’t remember doing so and thus get annoyed by) literally takes a poop on my day pretty much every day. Nothing makes me more excited than to see a little bold number next to my inbox informing me of new messages and nothing dashes said excitement faster than spam. It’s almost like God’s/whatever-being-you-believe-in’s little way of reminding you that Heaven is better. “Heaven doesn’t have spam guys. Just sayin'”

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