Initially my post was going to be about how today is Friday, and how I hadn't looked this forward to the weekend since last Friday. Then as I was about to enter the posting portion of this whole thing, I noticed the post counter was at 99. Wow. That means this would be the 100th, and I couldn't just let that pass without noting it.
Except now that I've brought it up, it feels like it's just hanging out there, and I'm about to let it down. This should be some sort of seminal moment for Oliver, yet I don't actually have anything reflective to say. It feels like I should give a toast at Oliver's anniversary, and I'm the joker left standing with the microphone who makes one bad joke, says "uh, congrats man, you're the best," and then drunkenly walks away leaving the audience stunned in silence.
Oliver hasn't had a lot of focus, but that was part of the idea. I never wanted to have to explain why t the day's post was off topic. If I felt so compelled to get my panties a little wound up and talk about collective morality, or I wanted to put down my hometown, I could. At the same time, I could fill Oliver up with movie and TV reviews, anecdotes about work, and fun stories about my mother.
At one point in the post I originally had planned, I think I would have mentioned how I have an irrational hatred of the sound of heels across tile. It comes to mind as people clickity-clack across the small linoleum portion of the floor between the main office and my desk. On one hand it does give me a heads-up that someone is on the way, so I am less likely to be frightened by them. On the other hand, I just don't like the sound. It's on of those things that shouldn't bother me as much as it does. Similarly to broken escalators. I know the argument- broken escalators are just stairs. Fine. Except they're not.
Anyway, Happy Anniversary Oliver. It's been a pleasure having you around. It may be a cliche anniversary thing to say, but "here's to a great 100 posts, and I hope to see at least 100 more!"
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