I don't need cable. No, it's fine. I'm going to order pizza and not watch TV, but rather sit in my apartment and listen to the air conditioner motors humming outside of other people's apartment windows. I'm going to reload status updates of the Yankee game. I'm going to read passages of the Li[tt]l[e] Wayne Biography to Liz, cause he's not what he seems and she doesn't believe me. It's ghost written, but she doesn't know and is not likely to ask. I am going to close and open my computer several times until I am satisfied that everyone is done corresponding with me for the night. I'm going to examine and adjust the shadow cast on my wall that resembles Alfred Hitchcock face to face with an erect penis, but I don't know what could be funnier so I am likely to end up leaving it as is after a few tries.
I'm sorry. It's not your fault you're nothing more than a sweet OBP with weak wrists. I should really just get cable.
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