sometimes I’ll run across various sites. some are stockpiled with blog posts with a tonnage of text. I’m not reading that essay I immediately think. plz, somebody stop me if/when I find myself thinking I’m actually interesting nuff to bombard you with thought vomit. I mean I’m not the alphamale version of Anne Rice here. And I have been known to be one loquacious individual (and funny too! omg huhuhhuh). it’s not due to the fact that I think I’m the most interesting, clever, sexy human that I already is. but rather I’m from Chicago, where we hibernate throughout the year and look for any real person to connect with. I’m even friends with custodial engineers + front desk security staff who I’d befriend and have lunch with in some episodic chapters of my work life. you kinda have to be socially warm in Chitown if you hope to survive. otherwise you’ll go batshit coo coo for coa coa puffs very easily. sorry but this internet non communicating isn’t going to cut it, actually. that’s why there’s a bar a stone throws away in every neighborhood. you really do need a tinge of lubrication to get them vocal chords rapping. in these random, spontaneous bouts of self immersion social exchanges its imperative not to reveal to much of yourself to certain individuals. and showing some obnoxious signature drink everybody is noticing is a bit over the top. I prefer to side on the side of fake humility here. a vsop in a snifter with an ice cube is too James Bond. I’m not some conceited British secret agent. scotch neat with an ice cube perhaps is a bit more classier. I am after all a super spy, so I have to pay close attention to such telling details. sexy gurls are noticing this, especially when I’m pimped out in a hugo boss suit I acquired in a thrift store in Paris.