The number of words that have gone unspewed today is dreadful. My brain is overflowing with many colorful and nonsensical arrangements and there is absolutely no one nearby to humor with them. As I debated whether or not I should clean my room and do other weekly chores, or should I just kill time on the computer and feel guilty instead, I happened to chance upon a memory of a blog I once had. Intrigued, I typed what I thought to be the url and once again marveled at the witticisms that had been mine so long ago, that I had neglected to revisit for such a long time.

This reminded me that it had been frighteningly long since I'd created another hideously arranged template, and in doing so wasted several hours of what, in a parallel universe, might have been time well spent on carving a stick or discovering fire. There was no denying that any frivolous room-cleaning should then by postponed, and I should hasten to spend a non-productive evening at the computer becoming pissed off at an increasingly heinous template.

So I poured myself a cup of coffee, dousing it with a round of childish half & half (those who have reached an outstanding level of maturity drink it black, shaking their heads at any sign of cream and dubbing it uncouth). I reached my hand into the expensive tea canister that, after being emptied of all of its former contents, was made instead the dark chocolate treasure container. I supposed that subconsciously I was hoping to restore my pride by popping a 60% cocoa piece instead of the milk chocolate candies with significantly fewer health benefits, after being so childish in my choice of half & half. I have to wonder, is there any hope for a person who drinks drip coffee with such modernized calorie-laden preferences? Or am I wasting my time to think that I can salvage my pride after being so thoroughly proved wrong by my own clever subconscious?

Either way, I have to warn you that after committing yourself to a Dove Dark Chocolate Promise, you truly will not be spared any amount of cheesiness. Some promises leave my inspired, energized, and occasionally teary-eyed, but today's just left me feeling empty. Such as, who was ever suspicious that this promise might be fulfilled? When you find that person, you must send them back to primary school where they learn the basics of colors and counting and drawing pictures and eating crayons or boogers or earwax, but certainly not paste which is the stereotype for what a kindergartner might dare to send down their tiny esophagus.

Oh no. I've gone and crumpled my Dove Promises' wrapper. It held the anecdotal promise with which I would've taken pleasure in regaling to you. Anyway, it said something along the lines of: smile so that someone will be curious of the mischief you may be smiling about." Which sounds an awful like to me of someone who is trying to make themselves appear very mysterious and clever, and perhaps arouse a strangers thoughts of "what on earth of a clever ploy might that maiden have been responsible for?" or "that lusciously gorgeous women has a sly smile on her face like that of the mona lisa, and I am seduced by the sexy mystery of her wickedly clever grin" or "that fox does not chortle aloud easily, and so I must constantly strive to tempt her with half-witted comments that do not come close to surpassing her own."

Okay I have ranted for quite some time now. I may have used every descriptive word I can think of.