People are Dillholes

According to statistics that I made up for this blog post, 98.9% of people are dillholes. The other 1.1% are cats - because we all know cats are people too. At this point, you are probably wondering, "what does this have to do with how you met my ex-girlfriend? Is there some point to this?" Well, as I've said before, around 2004 I developed my first crush on a girl named Erin. I couldn't tell many people because I was afraid that my parents would freak out. But I did tell a few friends. . .

     Unfortunately, I was the first out of my friends to start liking girls. Or at least I was the first to admit it. So after I told my friends, they became what I like to call "dillholes." "What is a dillhole," you ask? According to the urban dictionary a dillhole is: a term often used on That 70's Show. A phrase some person uses to describe another as a: dickhole. Only this is not as vulgar as the word "dickhole." My "friends" liked to make fun of me because I didn't share their view that girls were icky. So, they were dillholes.

     For instance, when I was about 12-years-old, I went out to eat with my sister, +Bailey Mills and her church friends. With them was one of my friends, Matt. I didn't ever see him much and Bailey already knew, so who was he going to tell? So I told him I had a crush on a girl. . . and he couldn't stop laughing. . . all night. . .

     Joe and Caja - my best friends in elementary school - made fun of me saying that Erin was "ugly" or "a girl." The second one was true, but I disagreed with them first one. . . at least I hope the second one was true.

     But eventually this age would end. One by one more and more of my friends would "come out of the closet" and admit that they liked girls - well, that is except Jeremy, but we don't talk about that. It even came to the point where we stopped playing imaginary games about fighting dragons and spent our time just talking about the girls we liked.

     I guess what I am saying is that this blog entry was absolutely pointless and in no way effects the rest of the story. I bet you want your five minutes back, now don't you. . .