Facebook is asking of me “What’s on your mind?” You really want to know? You got it, Facebook. It’s rolling on 3 AM and I’m watching a reel of Red Letter Media because a blissful coma evades me. Why, you ask of me Facebook? Ruby got scratched up and it turns the first two artistic candidates were ruled out for the blue ribbon winner I never expected. The candidates. Three. We can’t even get three viable candidates for POTUS, yet I have three key-wielding lasses in my life (supposedly ex-life) displeased enough with me that I had to amend my initial crime fighting documentation when I sussed out the true culprit by visual recording. This azure lass (not Smurfette. ribbon callback) was invited back to Present Day Steve’s life by unintentional invitation simply for reaching out to “thanks for believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself, and look where your comfort and support led me” so in actuality I brought this upon myself and don’t misuse “ironic” because this is the crystal clear epitome of “poetic justice.” Aren’t you glad you asked, Facebook? Not only did you get a comaless run on sentence, you were subjected to the equivalent of three decades of therapy. That’s what’s unavoidably on my mind. Check it, baby baby, the prior sentence has two apostrophe s words and neither is a possessive critter.
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