Well, as long as I say I’m in the running, nobody has to know that I haven’t even picked up my legs since the fourth grade. If I’m truly in. The Running. I won’t have to justify myself to these silly peoples for any longer than I have to, now will I? No, not at all. I’ll be in that running while they’re all just running scared (though they don’t necessarily have to be running either). You know, I’d like to think that this whole time in the running has been an educational one, but I’d just be fooling myself. I’ve become too wrapped up in all those surface matters that certainly don’t matter much to anyone aside from those Nielsen executives who could use better ratings for their 7:30-8PM EST slot on Wednesday nights. It seems as though the nasal-voiced smarmy millennial girls just don’t have the same impact they did a few seasons ago, so we have to come up with an alternative (yet equally vapid) stereotype to exploit for the entertainment of millions of Americans who tune in just because it’s something to do at night. Heaven forbid they expand their horizons at all (what horizons?) before they crap out and dream about having their throw pillows stolen by Barack (Hussein) Obama.
WHARVED 