Who do I still think I am??

This one's about the new postcard.

30DBC PROMPT: "Prompt for June 8"  , courtesy of Janine .

Good evening folks...I have to admit, after thinking about it off and on throughout the day, I'm flat-out bailing on this prompt ("June 8 is Send A Postcard Day. The US Congress approved the penny postcard on June 8, 1872. Choose someone and write a postcard message to them. How do you feel about others reading your message? People really do read the postcards on their way to the recipients."). Why? It's simple. I'm not on vacation, and even if that weren't enough to stop me, there's no one currently that I feel like going out of my way for...I'd have to find a place that sells postcards (because I personally can't abide by the plain ol' whatever the Post Office is passing off these days), and then I'd have to plan a trip to said Post Office (which really isn't a big deal in that it's a block away, but sometimes leaving the house is a big deal).

And anyone have an idea how much the postage on a postcard is now, in 2014? Ain't a penny, I know that much. Granted, it's still negligible. But that's not the point. Texting and Tweeting are the 21st century postcard. Think about it. How much can you really fit in the space you're allotted on a postcard? Not a lot, unless you're one of those people who feels like they have to write as small as humanly possible so they can fit in every detail of their vacation that they can't wait to get home to tell you about anyway (although they'll probably arrive before their correspondence does). and if you're one of those hypercreative fucks artsy types with the elegantly microscopic handwriting, I probably hate you. I'll be fine with a quick "We're here, having a nice time, <maybe insert one wacky sentence fragment for personalization purposes>, see ya when we get home!" kinda thing. It's that simple. I don't want your itinerary, and this isn't the water cooler at work. Anything more than 140 characters better be an emergency, in which case I'd expect a phone call rather than waiting for the postal service to send me a cryptic note about some random situation you can't fully get into because...gasp...

...The sorters, processors, and mailmen will all be privy to whatever it is you're sending me! Just because the lot of them aren't allowed to open your mail, doesn't mean they're not gonna notice what's on the outside of something that has no inside. And you know that creepy old lady just down the street, who always seems to catch you in the most awkward-looking and precarious positions, will start quizzing the postman if she hasn't seen you for more than two consecutive days. Depending on how buddy-buddy she is with the mail carrier, who knows what kind of gossip could be dangling throughout the neighborhood? Hell, when I was livin' at 542, someone always scratched just enough at the name/address window of my electric bill every.single.month. Why? I don't know, but it barely exposed the balance due. No idea why anyone would care to know that, and it wasn't the mailman, because I lived there for 10 years and it wasn't the same mailman, but every month for 10 years someone wanted to know the particulars of my electric bill. Imagine the paperwork (because you know 95% of an electric bill is bullshit you don't need anyway; and yeah, I know there are paperless billing options, but if you've made it this far through today's entry then keep rollin' with me) your electric company would save if they just sent you a postcard every month with your balance, a due date, and a very basic breakdown of usage (they don't even have to include a customer service number either, because it's not like they're usually useful). But anyway...

Never mind. Don't text me if you're on vacation. Don't call or email me either. Just leave me alone. At least until we get this NSA mess figured out so we know who's wires are being tapped. Just get at me like we did it in the old days...drive past my house fifty or sixty times until you see a light on, and show up unannounced. Because if there's one thing I find more intrusive than a phone's notifiers notifying all the time, it's uninvited guests.

BCF PROMPT: It's Sunday y'all...no prompt. Check back in this spot on Monday though, where the word serendipity will not be turned into a story or a poem will be featured prominently. I swear for the life of me I don't think I've ever used that word in any kind of conversation before. Ever.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

It's Sunday, it's raining, and iTunes has sufficiently bummed me out enough this evening, so I'm going old school emo tonight.

THE DAILY BOX SCORE:

The battle for sleep wages on. Not wanting to chance anything, I took measures to ensure I'd get a solid rest last night, but since I need to be up sorta early tomorrow anyway I'm not sure if I wanna take an Ambien tonight (and I'm supposed to be phasing that out anyway). Problem is, I'm not really sleepy-tired right now. I'm tired, but not to the point where I could count on falling asleep and staying asleep. Plus, I'm kinda scared to go to bed...I had a really inappropriate dream the other night about a girl I haven't seen in like 20 years, and while it was interesting, it didn't end well (do these things ever?) and dreams that leave me freaked out in the morning (not nightmarish, not scary...just...weird) and stay with me throughout the day make me want to avoid sleeping altogether out of fear of more awkwardness. Guess we'll see what happens tonight.

Well, for everyone who thinks my entries are too long (trust me, I know the sentiment's out there...I'm self-conscious enough to realize this and I don't care enough to change it ), here's a nice, short post for this evening. Might be the shortest I've busted out in a long time. You're welcome. Peace, don't forget to kiss me, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!