QT

I've been in a silly mood all day, thanks to a little thing I like to call my brain. And a man I'm going to call QT. The QT, as some of you know, can stand for a nigh-infinite number of things.

I know what you're thinking, and I quote, "Oh. No. Every this guy gets in a silly mood, his posts become harder and harder and harder to read. I just can't keep up with the immensely inaccurate details he puts in his posts, and the speed at which he changes frequencies. It's startling, really. I'm just going to skip this post."

O' what sad times are these when passing bloggers can skip blunderingly silly posts at will. Even fellow bloggers like myself are getting discouraged by the amount of skipping going on presently! It's quite silly, I say!

Earlier today, my sister (that is, my work sister) told me I was quite silly. She quit today, and it makes me really sad. And then on the way home, I passed a sign that said QT on the top left corner. Or maybe it's the top right corner. But it's a huge QT in white letters with a red background. Hell, I'll just show you:

I forgot to mention the shadow falling downwards and to the right of the white font. Just one of the few mistakes I will ever admit to making. Now you may have already clicked on the image above. If you did, it took you to a gas station website called QuikTrip. These convenient stores are, curiously enough, conveniently placed throughout the midwest. You go there, you, and no matter where they are (i.e. in the ghetto, i.e. Columbia, MO), you feel safe. They are clean. They have pigs-in-a-blanket. And if you don't know what thems are, freckles, you best get'cho self outta yo' hole 'n git one!

Now here's the scoop. The advent of an idea received by means of subliminal messaging. The real occurrence that comes to pass each and every time I coast (in neutral) or slow (with the brake) or fly (at 75 mph) or lazily list past the bright-white, boldly-shadowed letters surrounded with a nasty ketchup-stained, rounded-edged box that makes up a logo for a hip and hype gas station with pigs-in-a-blanket is this: QT = this lovely little man. I think he's crazy. I think I'm crazy! If you're still reading this, then I think YOU'RE crazy! And because of those two letters, so strategically placed in my direct line of vision, I think of his movies and I get this ever-destroying desire to watch one. And on days like today, I get home, open my metal box shut tight and locked with a key and a little slit near the top which acts as an opening, and there's a Netflix DVD, written and directed (the movie, not the DVD) by QT himself. Eerie.

Inquiry: will you be around [location removed] come the beginning of May? I will be hosting a QT marathon on my one couch, two camp chairs, a Rock Band drum set, and 100-inch diagonal screen. You're more than welcome to come.

Notice the foreshadowing. If you can guess what foreshadowing is taking place, I'll buy you something. You have a .17 probability of guessing right. I did the math.

I'm going to go get a cheeseburger.