I'm in Chinook

So after being dazed by an incredibly random book in Chapter's, I limped across the mall to update this blog, I discovered a Dell kiosk and soon found that their computers don't have internet, the cheap jerks. Nevertheless, I escaped the grip of the salesman. I don't like salesmen unless I ask them for help, to which questions they can never find the bloody answer to or respond to in an understandable dialect. I'm a salesman's daughter. I was a sales(wo)man. Stop selling me North American crap that supposedly we all "need" in order to survive on this planet. Please and thank you give me a tree to live in or a tribe to join.

It's like a gym membership: you pay money to stand on some electronic-controlled, plastic, stationary contraption, through which the exercise never amounts to anything due to the overwhelming amount of junk that you consume. PUH-LEASE. Go the hell outside and move your body like it's supposed to, in real-life air with real-life grass without any useless monitors and machines strapped on. Plus it's free, so take your fill.

Note: these are obviously my opinions based on some research and personal preference. In no way am I asking you to agree with me.

Thanks for reading, anyway.