Hi readers of this blog, I recently signed up to do an over ambitious exercise called ‘Blogging 101’. Mostly because I need help get more content onto these screens.
So this is the first exercise as part of the ‘Writing 101’ (okay, I know I just wrote ‘Blogging 101’, but this page I decided click on is called ‘Writing 101’) they ask you to just write / type for 20 minutes. No constructed plans of posts, just whatever that flows from my partial operating brain to my fingertips. So I’m going to let my mind go free range. Cage free. Commando. Absolutely wild.
Annnd, apparently I’m just suppose to publish this. Without editing.
If this is your first time on Little Bennet, God bless you. If you have high blood sugar and possibly low in iron, then I just suggest for you to step away from the screen very slowly. I have no idea what this post will your do to your possibly fragile body. If I have to describe what it’s like for me to write for 20 minutes straight without thinking, it’s very much like squeezing out a tube of tooth paste: Utterly satisfying but I’m going to be left with a huge mess that no one wants to clean up afterwards.
The last time I proof read something that I wrote, I almost gave myself cancer. So now I just pass the responsibility to someone else.
What is worse, I’m listening to Enrique Iglesias. Remember that guy? Neither do I. But he is singing in the background in another language, possibly about how to seduce a girl but who can be bothered to verify that shit. What Iglesias is doing to my ears is very much like what fried chicken does to my body. No, I don’t know what that means either.
Why is that bad though? In the small amount of space that is inside my head, I somehow have allowed Iglesias to occupy the entire territory, images of him wading through the water in his half opened shirt, which only means one thing: tonight I will HAVE to sing “Bai la mooooooooooos” in the shower. I truly feel sorry for the poor guy who has to live with me.
Other interesting things in the immediate area is this sexy bowl of mini M&Ms sitting on my desk. That bowl, my friends, is a testament of self control.
Bai la mooooooos! That was the end of my 20 minutes of free styling. I hope you survived.
*I have just corrected 3 mistakes but I had to stop myself, to ensure this task stays true and genuine. Now we have written evidences to the effects of listening to Iglesias.