So recently, a kid from college (who dated this girl I always wanted to take for a nice sensual stroll down Snuggle Street before making an aggressive turn down ButtStuff Blvd) shared a memory on Facebook. Usually, I don't give a shit about other people's FB memories, I get enough of their current shenanigans as it is. However, this particular memory? Indefinite outlier.
Sometimes, and in this case "sometimes" directly refers to the last hour I've sat in this piece of shit Amazon Prime suggested office chair (now rotating stool) that snapped in half the first time I leaned back, I have an idea, I start a blog, and zero words come out. It's like whiskey dick for a writer. To counter, I sometimes play a little word association, or to keep up with the metaphor, I word fluff. Join me.