I mean, I guess it's okay.
Watching weekday marathons of VH1 Behind the Music.
Sitting on my front porch, swatting at mosquitoes and sweating.
Trolling the web for pictures of my ex-girlfriends to see if they got fat and/or unattractive.
Watching weekday marathons of Teen Mom.
Rearranging my VHS tape collection.
Calling numbers from TV–mostly for personal injury, but also for free invention patent kits. And sometimes the ones where they ask if you’re depressed or think you might have a gambling problem.
Posting non sequitur comments on NPR articles that get then flagged for being hate speech.
Sleeping fourteen hours a day.
Engaging between eight and fifteen times a day in what was once termed in polite society self-abuse.
