Like Byron Himself....

I am lame. There is no other explanation leaping to mind - I have allowed small rodent-like aliens to infest my soul and eat it for a sugary snack. Of course my soul is sugary - excuuuse me, but I am reckoned to be a sweet person. Although I admit to a tangy sarcasm at times - so maybe my soul is more like a Swedish fish or a sweet and sour gummy thing covered in sugar. Preferably in the shape of a big pair of lips.

So why am I so lame? Because I have thoughts, I really do, I think about things and make myself laugh at my own cleverness. Wow, that's really something, I think, ha HA! Am I funny or what! I need to write that down... But when I come to write down anything at all, I stare at the screen or the page with a slack-jawed-ness that is envied by the slack jawed. Sloths feel outdone by my ability to get absolutely nothing done.

Just the other day I was having a thought, and it was amusing, honest. I thought about what a nice change it would make in terms of a weblog entry. And now that I come to make said entry, I have NO IDEA what that thought was. It's gone. Instead my head is filled with muddled verses of the song "We Go Together" from Grease. I mean, come on, the song doesn't even have many real words!?

So the only explanation is massive brain cell loss on an unusual scale. I've led a frighteningly pure life overall and I haven't done too many things that actively kill off brain cells. How did they die? It's like Flowers for Algernon here, people, I have a moment of lucidity with which to lament my oncoming brainlessness.

My vote is for alien invasion. Yeah, that's it. Give me back my brain, aliens!