Who actually lives in lancaster???

Well I'm guessing tomorrow will be a mircocosm of the past or present. No, that's total crap. Tomorrow is tomorrow which is the day after today and the day before tuesday. Tomorrow is December the thirteenth in the year twenty-thousand and four. This is another one of those times where there are a million things I should be doing, but, no, I sitting in her typing for the sake of typing.

Can you imagine what would happen if certain people read this? I don't mean people I, or even, you know. I mean what if some girl that kinda liked me but didn't really know me read this? It would be the end. No doubt about it. I don't read prior posts; fuck I don't even proof read them. But I'm sure it would be bad. All I spout on here is crap about how much life sucks and women suck and relationships suck and the padres suck. And when I'm not hitting any of those blog g-spots I'm usually saying something insane. Not the fun kind of insane either. Not the nice, endearing type of insane. No the grow-up-to-be-the-unibomber insane.

Lets roll out a hypothetical instead of doing western civ...

So there is this girl. Nice and attractive and all the qualities I could hope for. And, luckily for the sake of this thought exercise, she thinks the same things about me. So, perhaps, there is a potential for a relationship (I'm pretty sure this is NEVER EVER going to happen given what a jackass I am). Anyway, so she likes me and I like her. Nice. Let's say I actually grow some confidence and ASK THIS GIRL OUT... (let me take this oppurtunity to reiterate how much of a pussy I am and how ridculously hypothetical this is)...

So, again NOT A TRUE STORY, she says yes. Well, mission accomplished!!!!>>>>....????

You see I forgot to put in there that I reveal nothing about myself when I first meet this girl. I may seem like I'm giving away many details, but I only give away glimpses of details. And the details that I do give are very inconsequential. It's usually stuff that makes me look good without actually having to look good (e.g. i surf, siblings, fun little anecdotes, hey i like Franz Ferdinand too)...So back to the not at all true story...

Well this girl that likes me and has said yes to me doesnt know who the real Matt is. This is absolutely the plan. In my decades of platonic experience I have realized that less information given to a potential is ALWAYS better, and FALSE information is ALWAYS best. You see if a guy gives a little information (or wrong information that can be corrected later) he allows her very powerful imagination to do that beautiful thing it does. The female imagination (assuming he's not ugly) will help guys out 90% of the time. You see girls like guys for no real reason, perhaps there's some attraction or some common ground, but for the most part the attraction is utterly causeless. Well girls will take the little info they have about the guy and create one hell of a human being. This imaginary guy will be so far beyond what I/you/anyone you know could ever be. But now he exists. To the girl this imaginary guy is entirely real. We'll call him MATT2.o. So back to the never ending story...

So this girl is planning on going out with MATT2.0 who is nothing like myself. Well, perhaps I'll be able to span the gap between MATT2.0 and myself with some clever jackass moves, but something happens. She stumbles onto this blog. She reads a few things. She reads a few more. She reads some passage that is so blatantly evil and insane that she realizes that I, being the author of aforementioned evilness and insanity, is also fucking EVIL AND INSANE...

Well of course the relationship is over for eternity. MATT2.0 will continue to float around the universe as what NO ONE can ever be. And I will be sitting here typing.

You know I typed that so I should really understand what I just typed, but I don't. I hope you don't either. I bet MATT2.0 does, that bastard.

I like MATT2.0. He'll be back for later posts. Hopefully AFTER finals.