Don’t refer to my face as “Simple. Not much to it.”

Also, I will not be returning before 4pm to grab the 30% discount on the D&G frames.

Because I hate you.

-BWP

Because I am seriously committed to a naive pursuit of a career in the nonsense field of Sketch Comedy, I live in Los Angeles. I am a New Yorker at heart. I will always be and feel as though I have been since birth. And so I deal. By writing a song in the key of the bluuuuezz, Baby.  I’m a white middle class male from Wisconsin. I. Have. Soul. Ya’ll.

I’m getting the HELL outta here (at some point, etc…)

The sun’s too hot

The wind don’t blow

I need that change in the air to tell me where to go

And so

I’m gettin’ the HELL outta here (at some point)

They’re all puffed up

Don’t like the way they glow

I don’t believe a word they say, can’t trust them head to toe

And so

I’m getting the HELL outta here (Lorne Michaels, give me a job)

They ain’t too happy

Even with all that doe

They throw it, blow it, show it, but no seeds will they sew

And so

I’m gettin’ the HELL outta here (#Ihatecarpayments)

How’d the city of Angels

Sink down so low?

I long for the streets and stoops that resuscitate my soul

And so

I’m getting the HELL outta here (Jamba Juice is a snack NOT a meal)

Wasn’t raised to be a hater

I have more friends than foes

But I’m not makin’ friends out here, my foes will tell you so

And so

I’m gettin’ the HELL outta here (I’ve actually met some great people but that last verse sounded super bluezy.)

If you knock on my front door, babe

I’ll be miles away, my dear.

If you knock on my front door, babe

I’ll be miles away my dear.

Oh this city is full a skinny tan people who wear winter coats when it rains, eat Fro-Yo for dinner, and don’t appreciate cheese,

And so

I’m gettin’ the HELL outta here (at some point)

Okay Okay, I’ve been gone for a while. My last update was 3 weeks ago and I’m like serrrr sorry ‘bout it. I realized this blog has kind of lost it’s place in my life now that I’m actually busy scootin’n’tootin’ ‘round LA. BUT, forgotten I have not about my 9 followers. I appreciate every one of you and hope one day I’ll somethin’ somethin’ somethin’ and then we can all blah blah blah. 

I’m going to rebirth this blog with an article I read in Time Magazine this month. 

“Living Alone is the New Norm” 

^Wha’tha’-brass-tits?!? The article is basically an advertisement for single dwelling in large cities. Apparently, the U.S. is up to a 28% of it’s population living alone. The number of American solo dwellers between ages 18 and 43 is growing at the second highest rate; which means we may soon catch up with the leading country of single dwellers: Sweden (47% Hyahh!) In short, the article gives voice to the pluses of living alone during the “social media boom” era. They prescribe: “Living alone can offer even greater benefits: the time and space for restorative solitude.” 

YES. I get it. Je suis supes comprehend. There are times, oh LAWDY, where living with, sometimes, multiple roommates, has driven me to a crazy I believe only Shirley McClaine has visited before. But on the realzies, are we so over socialized through media that we need to retreat to total privacy to recharge? Having roommates has kept me in line. It makes it impossible for me to get away with eating raw Trader Joes Spinach Tortellini dipped in spicy hummus with out SOMEONE commenting on it’s absurdity. AND THATS GOOD! I EAT LIKE A FAT BIRD! « A quality that, left unscrutinized, could morph and multiply into an even more obscene creature of habit. 

My quick and amature assessment is this: If we all lived alone for the rest of our lives, everyone would be fat, unhappy, and unsociable. No one to tell us we eat dumb shit, watch too much Intervention, and shouldn’t walk and text at the same time? No. Good.

#Imlikeseerrrrelevant