Testing. Testing 1, 2. Testing 1, 2, 3.

Dear diary,

This is an official prologue to the start of a neverending(till-i-get-bored) barrage of thrash that only the greatest of idiocy can muster. In this opening chapter, I realise I have nothing of interest to say, and looking at the title you could clearly see that I was trying to play around with the reader's mind. Seeing a topic such as "testing yada yada", one would expect the entry to be a curt and short one that is, as said, a post to test the efficacy of blogger's system.

By setting the expectations to pit-bottom, I would be able to draw excitement at even the slightest hint of content when one reads this entry. While the ingenuity of this exploitation slowly sinks in, you'd most probably be cursing yourself, above all else, to fall prey to the ridiculous nature of my post. Ultimately, this serves nothing as entertainment to myself or my guest, yet I couldn't resist the lure of it.

Fortunately, I have, out of consideration, thought of a 2 ways you could go about without feeling silly about the whole thing. 1. You could casually say aloud, preferably with people around, "Oops. Wasn't this the IQ test page for Mensa? Dang!" or, 2, which is a better choice in my opinion, check back this page once in awhile, because you never know what idiocy can come up with sometimes. Cheerios.









P/S: This post is so lame I'm developing an inferiority complex and have the sudden urge to hug myself.

P/S2: It suddenly occurred to me how dumb it was to address your diary as a dear. Why do people personify their diaries? Are all people who write diaries needy neurotics? Argh am I one then?! As if being stupid wasn't bad enough. Sheesh.