In the beginning, there were 2

But in reality, there is 1...Q.P. Live and Me. Split personality is the only explanation, but to try and explain it further would make no sense to me, you or that guy who occasionally gets control of my thought process. That's Q.P. Live. That flashy mofuka with his corduroy jacket but he hasn't been the same since he lost his hat...It really brought the outfit together.

But anyway, as this is my first ever waste of time let's get some words on paper/computer screen post into the infinite abyss that is this blog, I guess I should give some ideas for subject matter....well, there will be sports talk, there will be ranting, there will be such entries as "I can't believe this person really thought that was a good idea" and "I fucking hate you and this is why". In the end, this will be my outlet, but I think that is what these blogs are for.

To begin, I've had weird dreams the last few nights. Most notably was last night. I dreamt that I got off of a metro car to wait for the next train. Then the metro cars door didn't close, but the conductor didn't care because this is DC and no one in the service industry cares, so why the hell should the conductor. Anywho, the train then proceeded to lose control just before it was entirely in the tunnel and the back car, the one I was previously on with the still open door, jacknifed and then slammed into the wall next to the tunnel. It was pretty freaky to be completely honest and I felt as if I was right there. In the end, I woke up at 2:50 am and was slightly freaked out.

Until I fell back asleep and dreamt I shaved half my beard off in a drunker stooper the night before a workday in a effort to save myself some time in the morning. By half I mean the right cheek was clean and the left was full of the scruff that is my beard. That's just wasn't cool. People who shave half of the facial hair is the ultimate "Look at me, I'm comfortable with who I am" but it's also a major "Why won't anyone hug me" statement. Seriously, if you do something like this, you need some genital attention...and by genital attention, you need me to kick you in the nuts.

Productivity calls, so off I am.