I Hate Orange

...it's a wretched color, isn't it? I don't know why it keeps appearing in my life. Maybe that means something? I felt the need to paint my bedroom orange and yellow when I moved in, and while I am very pleased with the way that it looks, I often find myself wondering what possessed me to do that because those are the two colors in this world that I hate the most. Anyone who knows me well will tell you that the inside of my closet looks like a goth kid and Kermit the frog got thrown in a blender together, and my husbandesque... partner ... significant other... boyfriend... whatever-you-want-to-call-it (heretofore and henceforth to be referred to as Steven) has an affinity for the color blue. It's a mystery. The world may never know, just like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie-pop. But hey...check out my counter...it's called "flubber"...I never saw that movie. I remember thinking that it looked dumb in previews, but for some reason I'm thinking that David enjoyed that film, which actually makes me want to see it, because I don't think there are any movies that David likes that aren't good, but this is a really long sentence, so maybe I should see how long I can write without putting a period in. Nah, I'm already tired of that.

Useless fact of the day:

The longest sentence in literature was written by Victor Hugo in Les Miserables. It is 823 words long.

I can't imagine how that could possibly be grammatically correct. I'll have to research that.