As if it was for real, from the time of January’s fireworks to the gluttonous festivities of December, all of the western civilization, me included, is running its noble race between bedrooms, supermarkets, offices and toilets, and only the few best ones will be rewarded with a soft bath robe, a trophy wife and a nice brown tan after their vacation on Canary Islands! The tan will be really brown, brown like the fur of a baby otter. It will be as brown as cheap milk chocolate, the one you get in a late night supermarket. Glorious tan will cover the modern day race champion in its full: the face, the neck, the stomach, the shins of the victor. But don’t, I say don’t touch the lips! They will be pink. Pink like the thick full strawberry cream. And they will keep lying. Lying to the masses of fouls, so that the victor continues to win with their support. Their lips never tan. They can’t help but lie.
Ok, I’m now full of joy because this paragraph is just so bad it ain’t funny.
Today I woke up very early, and started writing a conclusion to my year of blogging. Now that I’m finished with a draft, I’m very happy that it’s out of my head, and that the light is glimmering at the end of the tunnel. Writing a daily blog post about daily blogging is so meta. Saying “so meta” is so fancy. Don’t you like fancy?