MY HOUSE

MY HOUSE, ALLIE!!!!

"Oh my GAWD!!!!!"

You sound like a dork. You sound like, "Blah blah blah I need privacy blah blah I need space blah blah you only exercise when I want to blah blah."

Stop watching me type. I can type what I want. It's my computer. I get on the elliptical and I like to do it in the evening. And now I have to blog because I'm going to blog every night this month whether I want to or not.

And tonight I don't want to blog so you need to back the hell up before things get ugly. I mean really ugly. Like that time at the place where that thing happened. You remember. It was bad. Really bad. Like Nickleback bad. Like Pontiac Aztec bad. Yeah. . . that bad.

I'm going to blog every time you want to use the elliptical. This is our new routine. You'll go unnaturally fast on the machine and I'll sit here clicking about on the keyboard loudly to annoy you. Every now and again I'll make chicken noises loud enough for you to hear me over your earbuds. You'll ask, "WHAT?!" and I'll reply, "Oh, nothing." And you'll make some haughty noise and tell me to go upstairs and I'll smile and keep typing BECAUSE IT'S MY HOUSE.

Bock bock bocka. Bock bock. Bock.