Hullo?
Speak directly into the microphone. Is this thing on? It's me, Blog. It's my birthday today. I was born about twenty minutes ago. Daddy named me after a Bob Dylan song. Get it? 'Cause "right" and "write" ... I know, I rolled my eyes too. Or I would have if I had eyes.
My Daddy's a ridiculous sort of a guy. I haven't known him very long - 21 minutes so far, but I can already tell he's a fool. He makes a lot of weird noises, especially when he tries to sand up, or sit down, or lay down, or walk, or sand still, or sleep, or breathe.
He's going to help me write these things. What do you want from me? I'm less than half an hour old. What should I write about, my own life experience? I was a blank white screen for a few minutes, then I had words. The End. See, I need someone to help fill this out, or else I'll just copy and paste that sentence over and over every time. What fun would that be?
I guess that's going to be it for the first one. I wanted Daddy to help write a bigger better one, but he said he has to go poop. If the bodily noises he makes are any indication, he's going to be in there for a lonnnnnnnnnnng time.
Better luck next time. Happy Birthday to me!
