It Was the Dog. I Swear.

Sometimes I feel like certain movies too accurately describe my life. But maybe that's what they're supposed to do. I think that's what I'd like to do with my movies, if I ever get so far as to have enough money to do so.
I guess maybe that my life goal sometimes seems to be to explain myself, and hopefully in doing so, explain other people. But...then what happens? What is there after everything is explained?
Sort of feels like the same question I think about when I think about two people spending their lives together. After so many years of explaining, what is there left? Is there a point where there's nothing left to say? Is that okay? Is it comforting?
I would like to think, and I'm sure a lot of people like to think that everyone is this endless universe of thoughts and ideas and nuances contained in a human shell. But that's probably not true. Once the knots all come out, you're just a ball of yarn. And who cares?

I was going to make a list of pet peeves, but I feel like that only leads to feeling irritated. So I'll list a few just for my own satisfaction and in between each one, put something that makes me laugh. Just so no one gets confused, things that make me laugh are marked with a + while pet peeves are -. Ok, ready?
::
-wet socks
+dumb faces
-people scratching themselves with long fingernails
+pretending to be a zombie
-my forehead getting wet
+fainting goats
-over confidence
+farting
-the word "pickle"
+boston terriers
-instruments that are out of tune
+people doing impressions
-anthropomorphized animals
+Falco
-misuse of apostrophes
+the ski hood dance
-cartoons with unnecessarily large noses
+rabbits eating
-the font "comic sans"


Well, now you're one step closer to knowing me completely, utterly, and exasperatingly well. I give you three weeks.