Crushed with Red Pepper

Do you ever wonder if you're retarded?
I mean, really: would anyone tell you?
You're probably thinking – I would know if I was retarded. But, would you? You wouldn't be able to think properly.
If no one told you, because they figured you wouldn't understand, and you have an IQ of 76, so you don't understand – how would you know?
I pretty much worry about this 95% of the day. The other 43% I'm busy working.
I've been away for a while. I'm sorry for the disturbance. I know it equates to a bad antenna during an episode of Frasier.
A lot has happened recently: April, May, June…half of July. I've been keeping busy, what with the new apartment and all.
Yes, that's right: I got a new apartment. It's a studio apartment. I'm not sure why they call them studios. Maybe it has something to do with studying? Like only a college student would be broke enough to move into one? I'm not sure. But, I like to call it home.
Other places I like to call home: McDonalds on Gilman, the beer section at Safeway on 1st, the Hurricane café on 8th, and who could forget the computer you're staring at now.
I've been growing pot in my spare time. It's real easy: you order these pot seeds at www.notpotseeds.com, and you kinda go from there.
I planted a month ago and was able to smoke my first blunt the other day. The trouble is, I heard a police siren from the TV, thought I was being busted and hucked the entire crop out of my 5th story window.
A coworker recently got pregnant with her sister's baby. I guess that would read better "Is carrying her sister's baby," but it's a lot funnier the other way.
I guess you don't get as much time off if you're carrying the baby for someone else – because you don't have to take care of it. That seems like a jip. I mean, imagine the depression of having to give away something that was with you for nine months like that? All your love and body used for something that would end up being ripped from you and put in another home? Man, I'd be really depressed. I'd probably shoot myself.
But, I found out it's not polite to tell people that sort of thing. She was really pissed.
I'm addicted to Wikipedia now. Don't worry, I won't resort to jokes about Wikipedia's inaccuracies. I figure if you can just get a small gleaning of what a topic is about, it's probably worth reading. And most of us know that Einstein didn't come up with the theory of relativity, and John Glenn wasn't an astronaut, and eggs aren't something called "protein." You have to really take out the Edgar Cayce and take every bit of information with a grain of salad.
I have bad neighbors. The one next door keeps coming by in his nylon boxers and no shirt and informing me that it's too loud. It'll be 2 o'clock in the morning and I'll be blaring the new K-Fed album with a gang of bikers and this guy has the nerve to come by and ask me to keep it down? It's ridiculous.
Sometimes I spend hours trying to figure out what I want to eat. Today, I brought a lunch. But, then I started thinking I didn't like what I brought. So, then, I hopped in the car and decided to go to McDonald's. Then, I started thinking about how I had no money, so I better just drive back to work and eat what I brought. Then, I got back to work and decided that what I really wanted was McDonalds. So, then I got back in the car, and quickly realized that I was broke again. I slapped myself on the forehead and said "Oh, me." I ended up eating the leatherette on my car seat to end the dilemma.