Mishmosh m'gosh!

Various (mishmosh instead of mishmash cuz it sounds better with the m'gosh... just in case you didnt get that bit) shorts picked up from here and there... combined into one longer post since lengthy is more up my alley in the blog department. I dunno, sometimes it just feels off if the post doesn’t reach the bottom of the compose entry box or beyond. anyway here you have it:

Ground Zero:
There are certain intervals of time when my corner of the world looks like a war zone. A battle between books, papers, clothes, and wires with casualties on all fronts culminating right here on my bedroom floor. The battle field littered with the spoils of war and the bedlam resulting from overwhelming blast of sloth.

I am such a bum.

Pedestal piece:
Your pedestal is chipped and cracking. Worn by the ravages of frustration and failed reciprocity. Things not done. The once gleaming marble now coated with a layer of dust so thick that even the shadow of dulled luster comes through only in the smudges from growing weeds and climbing ivy.
The bust on it is even worse off. The image lovingly sculpted under the careful eye of an idealist and her gullible hands have been changed by the once over of a realists hardened chisels. It is your image that sits there now among all the broken bits of former glory.
Soiled and pitiful; a grimy testament to a disillusioned state. This is your pedestal. Broken, sad and ugly.
As I turn my back to the remains of fantasy I can't help but let out a resigned chuckle. I leave your pedestal; out to be forgotten. And I say to be forgotten because the sad truth, sadder still than the state of your monument, is that for all that it is in a state of complete and utter disgrace, for the moment the decrepit pedestal still stands.

Head over Heals for Henry:
Henry Grubstick is Love. swoon. Roll over. Faint. Revive. Get back up only to fall down a flight of stairs and break neck while daydreaming over the complete and utter adorablecutehotness that is Henry Grubstick. I acknowledge that I am a nerd fan. sue me. but youll have to scrape me off the floor before you get me anywhere near a courthouse (because I have melted) and you must be forewarned that I will not in fact be paying any attention to you and your lawyer (Im not exactly sure why you'd sue me over my preferences or if that would actually be valid in any case) because I will be as afore mentioned gawping over Henry Grubstick. It also occurs to me that If we were to take this paragraph literally (I mean we rode with the suing bit) then I would actually be too dead for anyone to sue successfully (since I fell down a flight of stairs and broke my neck while going gaga over henry Grubstick) and would as such be peering up (or down as the case may be, I'm not entirely certain that I am not in fact going to hell though I'm pretty sure that I'm not... that is to say if there is a heaven or hell or if we have immortal souls at all to begin with. Its all rather technical in a metaphysical theological sense.) and mooning at Henry Grubstick. (note that the definition of mooning at and mooning are different one is staring lovingly and one is butt flashing.usually from a moving vehicle.) he is not in fact an actual person but matters of the heart are not subject to such logical constraints!!! (which is why I have sounded like a complete dimwit and have rambled for the past paragraph. It's like I already had verbal diarrhea and someone slipped me a laxative for good measure. gross analogy. Will fix thought process shortly. Management has been notified about the problem. lalalalalalalalalala... shutting down for repairs now) Who is Henry Grubstick you ask?? Here's a hint: Google Ugly Betty. lol. hearts... XD