I wonder how hard I would have to bang on the wall for Adver from O.A.D.S. to come over. Or if he would even hear me. He would hear me, yeah. But would he come? He'd probably assume it was just the chair knocking over after I kicked it out from under the noose.
What's he doing over there across the hall, anyways? I wonder if I should send Atta over there to check. But now I'm wondering if we're both assuming the other is dead. And anyways, Atta's out Christmas shopping.
It's freezing in here. I left my shoes in my office and now I'm out in the common area. Well, I guess it's really just Atta's area, it's just that this is where the door is, and a table if someone wanted to...utilize a table. But the reason I'm out here is this huge sofa with a blanket is out here, too. It should be in my office, but it's too big and the door wouldn't shut with it in there. The door has to shut, ladies and gentlemen.
So my options are to get up and turn the heat on, or just stay in the relative heat of this blanket. And since I can post from here, that's probably what I'll do, stay under the blanket that is, and there's no way I'm putting my feet on that cold-ass floor. Ok, just checked- I can't see my breath yet.
I usually write a Christmas post this time of year, with instructions on how to be charitable. Well, I figure you already know how to do that, so I'll leave you to it. I guess it'd be charitable of me to go check on Adver. Ok, "charitable" probably isn't the word...uh...neighborly. But what if he's over there and he answers the door? What do I tell him I wanted? I feel like it'd play out like a scene from Love, Actually.
So, I'm just going to stay here and Jedi up from Orange Milano cookies from over there across the room. You know you don't have to wave your hand around and point when you're using the force, right? I mean...you're doing that with your mind. That's what I'm doing now. I feel like this is probably the path to the dark side. Can you imagine Vader having to take all that stuff off just to eat something? I mean, I get upset when my gloves won't let me hold a butter cracker with cheeze whiz on it.
I think mittens must have been something borne out of the industrial age when there was a significant amount of the workforce trained to just push a giant button in a factory all day. What else could explain something as useless as mittens?
God, that was a great yawn. I think my jaw unhinged. I need to write what happened to me when I fought that alligator in the arena. I should post a picture of this scar! Atta says it's not really a scar until it heals. She also tells me my alligator-tooth necklace is not as cool as I think it is. Well, no alligator-tooth Pandora charm for her, then.
The Milano cookies have only made it half way across the room. It's probably because I'm typing at the same time. I would turn the heat on from here too, but I can't really see the knobs or buttons from here and I always hit the wrong stuff. I mean, I don't even know if they're knobs or buttons. Atta's probably going to be mad.
I need to roll over to my side now, careful, careful. There we are. I always roll the Milano bag really tight because, like just now, they always end up dropping to the floor at some point during the journey, and I don't want my cookies everywhere. I'm practicing on cookies in case I ever have to whisk a lightsaber across the room. That's a lie. I'm practicing on cookies because I'm too lazy to get up and get them.
If I had some white noise I could probably go to sleep. If I had some white noise, and didn't have re-occurring dreams involving alligators, I could probably go to sleep. As it is, I'm going to keep spinning around on the sofa until it lathes me smooth. What utter nonsense am I writing?
If I were to whisper that last sentence out loud I bet Adver would knock down this wall like the Kool-Aid man and be all That's What I've Been Saying!!!!!! Then we'd have an epic, Dragon Ball Z battle.
Maybe I'm not using the force, maybe I'm using my latent-until-I-just-now-thought-of-them Dragon Ball Z powers. Well whatever, those cookies are nearly within reach.
That's all for now, Reader. I'm going to leave you with something that'll really put you in the holiday spirit:
Merry Christmas, Russians!
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