That unnatural swell of my belly which may be mistaken as middle-aged spread, but is actually too much beer.
Anything unkind or insulting someone may say about my mental capability, because it's most likely true and therefore that person is just stating the obvious and their comments are patently redundant.
The dark shadows under my eyes. I stay up late for Twitter and Facebook when it would make way more sense to get up early for Twitter and Facebook.
Any inappropriate comments I may write about my sister. I haven't got a sister.
That cheeky wink I might give you if we meet. It's just a nervous twitch.
Any unflattering pictures of me on social network sites. It's not me, it's bad lighting.
That excuse about bad lighting. It is me.
A kiss ( x ) at the end of a tweet to a male friend. It's only because there's no quick symbol for *manly handshake*.
A kiss ( x ) at the end of a tweet to a female friend. It's only because there's no quick symbol for *peck-on-the-cheek*.
Any claims by me to be 'athletic'. The only part of me that runs is my nose.
Page 894 of my novel. There is no page 894.
Long-winded posts on here or Facebook. I can't help it... I like the sound of my own keyboard.
Spelling mistakes, typos, and bad grammar. We're back to the beer thing again.
My imaginary friend. I don't share.
The letter K in my Twitter name. Who cares if I have a middle name? I don't even remember what it is.
Flatulence, belching, or hiccups. I eat so slow, my digestive system gets bored waiting.
Swear words where they may appear. It's not that I lack a mature vocabulary - it's just that sometimes I pretend I'm still 15.
This whole post. It's just another test for Networked Blogs as this new site is...........