home of the enslaved and cowardly

Oh, I feel the return of my sanity. Thanks to a heavy dosage of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (the radio broadcast version is so soothing) and some David Mitchell-induced laughter, I am feeling my spirits rise. And you know what happens when spirits rise... bad jokes and awful puns. What's green and sings?                                                                                          Elvis Parsley What's orange and sounds like a parrot?                 ...

Well fuck you then. Look at me any longer and I'll pull out your eyes with rusty pliers and castrate you with a spoon. What? You didn't expect for me to say the truth? It is of no consequence to you so go back to your pointless existence. Fascinated by me? Entranced by the pathetic abomination that is my life. Well, you are utter stoolwater. Arse gravy of the worst knockhole. Sometimes there just isn't enough vomit in the world.

If it is indeed called Facebook, then I shall only friend you if I wish to observe your face. Otherwise, it is and should be remembered as completely acceptable for me to reject your offer of friendship as if I was friendly acquainted with you, unfriend you after realizing that I do not wish to further gaze upon your visage, or to mark you as spam on my news feed. This should not make me a cruel and bitter person. Fact: I am only as cruel and bitter in the sweetest and most reasonable manner, if I do say so myself. There should be no reason for you to force yourself to befriend people on Facebook whom you do not enjoy accompanying in real life. So stop telling strangers "ZOMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" when you clearly are not familiar with then in real life. You are adding to your pretentious air that you genuinely appreciate them and celebrate in the anniversary of their birth. Cynical? Perhaps. Or perhaps you are just faking nice. Oh poo. Don't look so down. Here's a joke....

n. the act of assessing something as worthless (you can thank my newfound appreciation for the show 'QI' for this knowledge. the British always seem like they're enjoying a hilarious/witty/clever inside joke) I must practice pronouncing this word to appear smarter in front of those I wish to insult.

I enjoy when people do not pronounce "picture" correctly. I suppose, what with living in the South and all, it's alright for people to pronounce the word as "pitcher"---oh wait, I DON'T. PRONOUNCING "PICTURE" AS "PITCHURR" WILL NEVER BE ACCEPTABLE IN MY BOOK. SO NEVER ATTEMPT TO TAKE A PRETTY "PITCHUR" OF ME AGAIN.

a process of reforming the psyche as a form of self healing, a proposed explanation for the phenomenon of psychotic breakdown Thank you Carl Jung for giving me this excuse. I am sure that my friends will appreciate this explanation whenever I fall into mental seizures. Of course, my friends  would appreciate it the most if they weren't imaginary. Just kidding. You can be my friend if you'd like. All you have to do is recognize the difference between they're/there  and its/it's . Is that too much to ask? Well then, that's too bad. I feel so sorry for missing out on all of the potential friendships I could have had with tweens & gurlz who tlk lyk dis . Because I enjoy tlkng lyk dis all of the time.

304th viewer. I feel so accomplished. Just kidding, it has been saying that for a couple of hours now.

"Ain't no party like a Marseilles party cuz a Marseilles party don't arrete" I forgot how amusing frenglish jokes were until Jean K. Jean reappeared on SNL.

Sometimes when you feel upset, you (or someone else) may point out that things could be worse or that you are not the center of the universe, to which you would like to reply, "OH YEAH? I AM THE CENTER OF MY UNIVERSE!"      Then you realize that you are not the center of everyone else's universes. So serve yourself some nice pity pie and slap the next person who looks like they might have a problem with you. I assure you that I have never tried this and would never suggest this, but in my mind, I would totally kick ass like this all the time.

ORIGINALHAIKU, SON Springtime is here now  How the birds sing and sun shines Even loofahs bloom.

It's that time of year again. Time to leave home and join your local gypsy troupe. Unless, of course, you live in the capital of Suburbia. If you do, then you'll just have to use your imagination. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must leave for the planet Lexicon (wordgirl allusion) with my Seven League Boots even though they're actually Tibetan, but who would know that?

Dear 50 year old hairdresser, Thanks for convincing my mom that we should get haircuts at eleven at night in your kitchen. Oh, and thanks for letting me know about all the clubs you hit up with your friends. Now I know that before 10:00PM, it's happy hour for senior citizens at all of the blacklight parties. Sincerely, Probably your youngest customer. P.S. I need a trim for my fringe.