There is writers’ block, and then there’s this.<\/p>\n
I’m smitten with a boy. He’s the bee’s knees. He’s the best thing since sliced bread. He’s exactly what I’ve been too afraid to even hope for. The only thing wrong with him is that he lives in Portland. This obstacle isn’t insurmountable (for the time being), but it has me doing some serious pondering, and daydreaming, and wishing the time between now and next weekend away. <\/p>\n
Normally, I’d use this forum to air the angst, giddiness, and all out stupidity that generally accompanies a serious crush like this. Then Badger <\/a>or Ryan <\/a>or my mom <\/a>would comment and I’d feel better, until I was all emotional about it and had to post about it again. The problem: Cute Boy reads my blog. He’s probably reading this right now. And he knows I know he reads it. Anything I put on here is basically a backhanded way of communicating with him. <\/p>\n So I’m at a total loss for something to post. I can’t write about things I don’t give a shit about. And, lately, all I’m thinking about is him (and my niece and nephew who I will see in about 24 hours, but do you really want to hear about them again? Didn’t think so). And even if I wasn’t embarrassed at the thought of him reading about how fab I think he is, I’m thinking of you other readers. I know that there is nothing more excrutiating than listening to someone wax pathetic about the object of their affection. Unless it’s unrequited, of course, because then it’s poetry. <\/p>\n I got nothing, peeps. Unless you wanna hear about his cute, curly, brown hair, or how adorable he is when he’s sleeping, or how nice he was to my cats even after one of them bit him, or how he gave up tickets to a football game to hang out with me. See! How sappy am I? You don’t wanna read that! I don’t even wanna read that.<\/p>\n So let’s all pray that Bush gets impeached or for another natural disaster or some interesting news story that I can exploit to express my half-baked, only partially informed, not particularly fascinating views.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" There is writers’ block, and then there’s this. I’m smitten with a boy. He’s the bee’s knees. He’s the best thing since sliced bread. He’s exactly what I’ve been too afraid to even hope for. The only thing wrong with him is that he lives in Portland. This obstacle isn’t insurmountable (for the time being), […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=109"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=109"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=109"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=109"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}