Learning to type!

Hey everybody,
So I’ve had a pretty relaxing weekend and I hope that you all were able to get some much deserved rest as well. I am excited to announce that every sentence in this blog will be brought to you without glancing at the keyboard, however frustrating that may be. Is it what I want? No. Is it what you want? Probably not; it’s gonna take a while and I’m likely not going to type all that much–If I tried a blog of normal magnitude, it wouldn’t be long before I went crazy and started smashing my keyboard, as well as denouncing the laws of gravity and started taking part in Pagan fertility festivals, which would really anger my Catholic relatives. Okay, that was one paragraph, not so bad, it only took 20 minutes! I really wish Mavis Beacon was here to reassure me that my accuracy is improving, and that my speed will pick up with repetition, and that all those hours spent playing video games as an adolescent while the other (more obedient children) were hard at work learning to type will pay off somewhere down the line. This blog is for you Mavis, you were the only virtual African American woman who ever believed in me and encouraged me to type on in that underwater exploration themed keyboard familiarity game, even when I continuously failed to make the time limit and got eaten over and over by the shark.

So much has happened since the last time we spoke: I had dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings, pet a cuddly puppy in the middle of a test, and tried on my roommates S&M kit that he ordered off Amazon–you know, normal stuff. Where should I start? Welp, it was a Wednesday night, and I was bored and it just so happened that Jordan’s package arrived earlier than expected. I was naked and ready to hop into the shower for one last scrub down before bed, but I couldn’t help myself when I saw all that leather. With Jordan’s

What a nasty chunk of shower hair, I cannot think of a single resident of Martindale with hair this long or this straight. So if you’re from another living unit, please quit shedding in the dale, it’s dirty enough as it is.

help and my sober consent I found myself handcuffed and gagged with a leash around my neck, a whip in my my hands, and clamps on my nipples faster than you could come up with a safety word (which wouldn’t have done anygood due to the ball gag in my mouth). Then, I decided to sprint around the living unit, shouting, “sfhohgouhergnfdavfa” for all to hear. It was about 10 minutes before it dawned on me that this was not senator appropriate behavior, but at the same time I also didn’t make any Lentil sacrifices against this in particular. Anyway, I’m sure that it gave my neighbors something to talk about.

Ahhh, I hate being a blogger who can only type at a rate of 13 words per minute. Speaking of lent, I am amazed the ruler of the Catholic church gave up his pope powers, what a sacrifice! Also I hate fishsticks on Fridays. But, if you eat red meat on Fridays, the Easter Bunny is going to lay rotten eggs, and besides, we all know that fish isn’t meat, it’s a vegetable because it gets its oxygen through its gills. Alright folks, I’ve got to get over to theater, don’t forget to come see the play this Wednesday through Saturday at 8 PM.



About Carl Sonnefeld

I am a freshman at Wabash College. I have 1 mom and 1 dad, 1 brother, and 4 dogs. I enjoy football, snowboarding, talking to men and/or women. Ray Charles is my favorite musician but I enjoy all things groovy. Happiness is a matter of fresh the coffee is and how pleated my slacks are. I am a twit @Cmoneytangmasta
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