7/6/06

So yesterday was 6/6/06 or 666 or "I'm a douche who believes in a calendar that isn't even based on actual dates." Everyone and their mothers were writing about this day, about the implications, ramifications and well, the hype behind it. I chose silence.

It wasn't because I was out all day and didn't find myself at home until 4 am 7/6/06. It wasn't because I don't believe in religion or heaven/hell or god/devil. It wasn't even that I didn't want to conform and write about something everyone else was writing about.

What was it then? Simply put, I have something against numbers. All numbers. You and your number loving, patchouli smoking, spiritual hippie friends could have made a big deal out of this around all the drum circles you wanted, but I wasn't breaking. My hatred of numbers stems from an early childhood counting accident that left numerous dead and many, like me, with a life long vendetta.

What good did any of this do you? What good was it getting all worked up over eeeeeeevil and the devvvvvvil? While all you people were running to math class and worrying about numbers, I was laying in bed with a beautiful brunette TV star talking about unicorns and rainbows and lollipops. Don't judge us.