I kinda like the prospect of bus blogging. It’s not entirely nauseating to type in a moving vehicle, and it helps pass the time quickly. It also lets me look like I have a lot of friends that I’m texting, when in reality I have few friends, none of whom I ever text. The downside is that the bus has the suspension system from an 1852 Mennonite Horse Carriage, so there are quite a few bumps that can easily move my finger over to the next key. But since I touch type, I don’t actually have to read what it is 3′m saying, and so long as no one reads this, no one will be bothered. Just me and the Google Bot, friends forever. He’ll always come to visit me.

Anyway, this is rather therapeutic, I can almost see why everyone has a blog. It’s where you can talk to yourself without having t dress like a disheveled hobo on a street corner. If I had any sort of creative output, this would be a lovely place to get together ideas and musings. But since my average creative output is to lovingly craft puns at a loved one’s expense, spontaneity is required, so this won’t be as much use.

Well, I’m still looking for a purpose for this blag, who knows, there might be something entertaining that I can do with my fifteen minutes of downtime on the bus besides counting the number of cars we pass.
The preceding was posted via mobile phone. Typos may be numerous. The author takes no responsibility for hilariously offensive mistypings.