At the 11:11...

UPDATE: Removed spellcheck highlightings from post. Why would Blogger think I'd want to publish my highlighted (albeit mostly intentional) misspellings?

[Here's a post that I wrote weeks ago and never posted. Do you believe that I actually have outtakes? That I actually write a ton of shit and then not publish it for whatever reason? Since I have a significant lack of content lately, and recently boasted that my blog is content driven as opposed to "look at me" driven, I publish this at the 11:11.]

I've said it before. The unfortunate timing of reality television and social networking websites has given birth to an unprecedented rise in douchebaggery.

You see, reality television has allowed the notion that the mundane details of someone's (like a low level celebrity) life is worthy of a television series. Social networking websites, like Facebook, give people the ability to discuss the mundane details of their lives. Erfuckinggo, People believe that the mundane details of their lives are interesting to people in general. It's the perfect storm. Storm of douche.

I should go through and every day pick one update that didn't need to be typed. "Got a coffee because I'm tired" does not constitute an immediate update. You should not post anything on Facebook that you wouldn't pick up a phone and call a friend to tell.

[someone picks up phone, dials, friend answers "hello," hears the following:]

"I'm eating Wheaties for breakfast."

It wouldn't happen. It shouldn't happen.

I don't care what people write and God knows I've stunk up the Internet with some self absorbed rants. However, I just hate the thinking behind some of these posts.

When I think of something that I believe is funny, I throw it up onto Twitter, which simulcasts to Facebook and to a sidebar on this site. That's it. I've REMOVED my reference to this site from my Facebook page. I became a little freaked out that people were getting on this site. This site isn't really representative of me. I don't club baby seals. I don't pop Xanax. I don't really wonder what the appropriate bereavement time is before you can masturbate to a dead celebrity (three days, FYI, for you Dixie Carter fans) I do occasionally DJ at a strip club. I'm actually social phobic at times, often shy, and combat these feelings with a drink too many. I just fear people seeing this site and making a judgment call before meeting me. I think several times, girls have seen this and gone out with me because of it. I shudder to think the negative prejudice that this site has brought on as well. And by negative prejudice, I mean dry dick.

Kidding.

So this site, perhaps, represents my thoughts, my rants, the shit that doesn't belong on Facebook or Twitter. The stuff that is only for my eyes, and the random masses that come across it while Googling "Gooch" for whatever reason. Why do I even maintain this dopey site? I need an outlet. I need to write something in a public forum; even with the possibility that no one except for myself and Gregster may read it. [No conclusion, apparently. At the 11:11, bodies of writing can end just like that.]