And again I say rejoice.

I have no money I have no problems!!!

Tonight is the news aflame with the following items:

My friend is Davis and he hath left me a comment of one! He has his own blog now and my sweet thrice-distilled goodness is it ever terribly strange and vulgar but also with the explosive laughing almighty. You should visit it somehow. And if you do not, may a pall be cast over areas in which you choose to locate yourself! Ha!

Somebody! Invite me to join your band. Do it do it do it do it. Do it. I CAN SING I SWEAR I WILL SING FOR YOU AND ALSO OCCASIONALLY PLAY INTERESTING AND EXOTIC AND BEAUTIFUL CHORD STRUCTURES which will cause you to possibly throw up small amounts but also you will go Ahhhhhh and Ooooo (if I am lucky and you are very stupid). Do it. Together we will make masterpieces (do it) of Rock and also of Roll, whom I am told are close companions (do it do it). Here is where I segway into another thing which I am about to tell you and this thing is unimportant in an extreme way!!!!!!!!!!!

On the Rock and Roll side of things, Coheed and Cambria are releasing their third album on September 20 of this year. When I heard the news I was so excited that I punched myself so hard in the chest that now I have one breast. I named it Shrinkwrap and damn if it ain't purty. Tomorrow I'm throwing a pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-release party for the aforementioned album during which I pledge to drink sixteen gallons of random alcoholic beverages and throw bric-a-brac from my rooftop at neighbors to whom I shall sing, "I Am The Filet Mignon, You Are The Person Who Eats The Filet Mignon And Perhaps Contracts Salmonella Because, Stupid, You Ordered It Rare (In E Minor [P.S. have you been watching Hell's Kitchen because it is TERRIFIC. Man I hope terrific is not one of those gay adjectives.])," which I will improvise on the spot for your/his/her/their listening and (even!) viewing pleasure. After the lots of pre-release prrrrrty we are going out on the town mothers and yes I do mean we are going to TGI Fridays because that is where some people enjoy going that I know up to and including myself. When we arrive we will play trivia and my friend Davis will drink enough beer to fill my grandparents' swimming pool, which is, I assure you, an extremely large amount. For added entertainment value, I will be performing a forced tracheotomy on him early in the evening and thereafter require that he consume all house brew through his throat hole. P.S. It's cool. Dave don't bleed none.

Help me solve this problem of mathematics:
This is how stupid this guy I work with is. He will go back to the place where I work and he will be all Oh no how many of these things do I need? So he will such as fret for at least an hour and then he will try to call you and while the phone is ringing he is asking people questions and when you answer the phone he is literally still saying to everyone he can find Oh how many do you think I need to get because I am so stupid that I can't think for myself please advise captain would it appease you if I were to pinch myself rapidly? So then I will tell him, "Okay. We need five. That means get five and don't spend four hours being retarded and thinking that maybe we need six." But always sure enough he shows up like twelve hours later and is all Well I just wanted to be safe so instead of seven like you said I brought sixteen and three-quarters. This is the point where I take something like a shovel or an old lady and I almost hit him with it but then I'm like, "Nah," and instead I just drive to his house later and break his windows with a shoehorn.

I got this thing about school kids. They are all like Yo, doing drugs and sleeping together from ages much too young and strange. What are we going to do to solve problems such as this one? I have an idea that doesn't involve hitting them with steel pipes all the time until they scream at high volumes or perish. Instead we could give them little pieces of candy (with their name engraved in it all fancy like or whatever, hey that was just part of the idea so don't get all worked up) whenever they do something really bad. But the joke is that the candy tastes like a big heaping bag of ass.

Hey guys it's almost like this is the longest and best entry I've ever written except for any part of that previous phrase that requires any sort of talent or prose-based prowess. Now I am going to slam on the brakes and pull that funky lever device in the middle with my right hand and I will open the glovebox. After that I will be forced to put on my left blinker and slam the back of my head into the dashboard while blowing an airhorn and listening to some guy with a mullet blast Rock You Like a Hurricane over and freaking over out of his rusty pickup. Now I'm sure you're all wondering--what's in the glovebox? But I can't tell you. I just can't. Because it's lots and lots of Troll dolls. And that is not okay.