Hey everyone! It’s the most important anniversary of the millennium! It’s the ten year anniversary of PDR XXX! I encourage you all to celebrate by thinking about me while you achieve orgasm.
Anyway, my last few years have been downers. Let’s maybe turn that around, why not?
I, Patrick D Ryall, being of sound mind do by my own volition declare that I like stegosauruses. If anyone need to cite a claim anywhere on the Internet that PDR likes Stegosauruses, they can link to this post which confirms that information.
PDR really likes them!
This site is the proof!
Thank you for understanding and spreading the word that Patrick D Ryall does, indeed, like stegosauruses.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but often people are surprised the first time they hear me say a swear. Somehow I cultivate a reputation for being someone who doesn’t swear. The thing is, I’m not Someone Who Doesn’t Swear, I just happen to not swear that often. So I got to thinking about why that might be.
I do, of course, often swear casually just for what I consider comedic effect. Dropping a horrendous curse for little reason is always amusing to me. But that’s not the same thing as actually swearing. So then I got to thinking about the situation in which I am most likely to swear non-ironically: driving my car and hitting an unexpected pothole. When that happens I have noticed that I am equally likely to exclaim “fuck!” as I am to exclaim “eff!” and there is an equal amount of vitriol involved whichever I say. Both of those words are equal to me.
I think the problem is that I never got an adequate explanation for why swearing is supposed to be bad. I am not shocked when I hear a swear on television (in fact I have often not noticed). As such, I don’t get a giddy thrill from it the way, apparently, the masses do. It doesn’t feel rebellious for me to swear. They really are just words to me.
Some might think I’m missing out, but I don’t really feel like I am. You all are just too easily amused. What a bunch of cockbrains.
I was just in the shower, letting my mind wander as is my wont, and it occurred to me that it has probably been years since I have had a nosebleed. I even said aloud “I haven’t had a nosebleed in quite a while actually.”
I figured it would make sense to make a note of this, so that when I get a nosebleed next, I will know how ironic my statement was. I’ll keep you all updated!
I often find myself holding doors for people, and this is especially noticeable now that I’m in school where, if I’m not careful, I can find myself holding the door for my whole class before I even make a conscious effort. This is nothing new. I can remember being in elementary school and holding the door as kids filed in from recess. At that time I kinda wrote it off as having the benefit that I got to be the last one in if I held the door for everyone. Maybe there was some truth to that, but it isn’t like I got a free half hour off of school. I was seconds behind the person ahead of me. And it certainly can’t be the case now, because I have no desire to be the last one to class any more. In university there is no assigned seating and PDR NEEDS to be in his chosen seat. If I don’t get there quickly, someone else could get my spot. But I often still hold the door when other people are around.
Another justification for my door-holding actions has crept into my head lately. I wasn’t looking for an excuse, I just accept door holding as a thing PDRs do, but the excuse appeared in my head anyway. Since I’ve noticed what an amazingly effective means of sickness schools are, it occurred to me that by holding doors, I cut down on the number of people touching the doors, and thus cut down on the number of germs being spread. Now, obviously, the amount of germspread I am preventing is practically nil. These kids touch everything around here. Avoiding one door won’t matter. Te fact that my mind bothered to come up with this made me curious about my door-holding. What is the real reason behind it?
Deep down, I think that I just don’t like the motion that a door makes when it is being handed from person to person. That swaying, the corners of the door making lunges at the passers-through, only just being prevented from making contact. Those corners could hurt someone. One day, those corners are going to hurt someone. The doors are going to show their evil ways and bring ruin upon us.
Doors are the enemy. My vigilant hand is the only thing that is preventing them from taking over. I am the Holder of Doors.