Trash Your House Like A Fake Party And Build A Friend Out Of Gunpowder Day!

Wow. So. The one night I am actually on the internet and there is not a single living soul anywhere in sight. That is so flipping typical. You'll have to excuse me now as I'll be sitting in the corner weeping openly for the next 12 hours.

Man. I cannot even effing get a hold of my friend Davis who is up at all effing hours of the effing night. Effing dude.



Hey: Someone's gonna buy me a FUGGING KEYBOARD!!!!!!chocolate

Hey Launchcast: Play some damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn rock. playitnowihateyousomucharrrrrrrrgggghhh

Hey people with no faces: What happened to your faces?! Holy SHHEEEEE-IT!!! Oh wow, your no-face makes me feel like throwing up.

Hey me: THE INDENTURED SERVANTS ARE PISSED.

Hey Jack Handey: Why aren't you not still having sex with Susan Sarandon's niece-in-law yesterday morning?

Hey grabby-hands lady (from two buildings down the street that is slightly north by northeasterly from here) who stands outside on Tuesday who I have never spoken with: Remember when my wife left me? Why didn't you try to stop her? WHY?!?!?! Remember when my son perished? WHY?!?!?!?!?!?

Hey Bill Gates: Stop it.

Hey jealousy: Maybe we can drive around this town.

Hey everyone I ever knew: MITTENS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I'm in your grocer's freezer with a peg leg and I am not pleased.