I've Got A Stress Ball and I am NOT Afraid to Use It!!!!!!!

I now announce; with all the aplomb I can muster, I HAVE A STRESS BALL. Now, it may not seem like anything to blog about, but let me say this: the stress ball is man's greatest invention since the Computer and Orlando Bloom in tights.

Everyone knows that the Computer has given us the freedom to communicate; to reach out and play Boggle with people all over the world. The Computer has also allowed us to finish our assignments at 3 am in the morning... it has allowed us to rudely block and ignore people we don't like; by simply ignoring their messages... (J, of course you know who I am talking about... a certain blob-like creature...).

The Computer has allowed us to play games like nobody's business... to get addicted to Boggle like nobody's business.... to upload videos, chat with our friends. And, with it's Siamese twin, the Internet; these two shall rule the Earth.

Now, and although this is not something everybody knows (but I know and so it is enough); Orlando Bloom in tights (and also Nicholas Cage in black leather pants, Hugh Jackman in ONLY pants and no shirt, same thing) is quite a sight for sore eyes. Especially when, like me, you travel in the LRT where all you get to stare at are mustachio-ed men and fat, pot-bellied 'uncles' and skinny, gangly boys; Orlando Bloom, in his pair of elfin tights, is a wonderful eye-reliever. Unless you're one of those confusing, strange creatures called BOYS then, well... you're a boy. You DON'T have to know what I am talking about.

Ah, what with his looong blond hair and his pretty blue eyes (Orly is brown-eyed and brown-haired, but no matter, all hail the wonders of contact lenses and wigs)... I must send his parents some flowers and birds nest. Congratulate them on bringing to the world such a beautiful, beautiful man. With a smile that can light up a room. With dimples so adorable you could die. And a sexy British accent.

*if you ARE a boy, and are feeling slightly ill now, I apologise.*

But I digress big time.

Now, Stress Balls are wonderful. They can be squished. They can be smushed. They can be molested in so many different ways it isnt' real. And they dont' complain. They remain stoic, silent and patient as you squeeze, smush and pinch. They utter not one word as you bounce them on tables and floors. They are soft. They are bouncy. They are everything Bra-man would like except that they are not alive.

*if you are a human being and feeling really ill now, I apologise again*

My mom brought them home for me; so now I have matching merchandise. She brought home two, but my dad snagged the other. They're yellow; I wanted blue, so I shall continue my hunt for a blue stress ball. Then my brother can have the one I have now. I dont' like yellow much.

Ahem.

I have to go; alas! Communication Theories call to me. I have to go. Fare thee well! Dont' sue me! I have good lawyers!