I did something incredible.

I can't tell anyone about it.

PLEASE GOD DON'T TELL ANYONE.

Signed,
Your Really Favoritest Person

P.S. What the shoo is wrong with my blog and please tell Jesus to fix it.

Basically servin' it up twice

Question.

Why is Blogger so amazingly retarded? ANSWER ME. All that I want to do is upload a stupid picture into this stupid brainfacehead and it is not happening for me at all. It is happening for me less than random incredibly beautiful women stopping me in public and showing me their breasts. It is happening less than Robert Downey Jr. not doing coke. It is happening less than this:



Hmm. Looks like it's working now.

Um. Basically I was just going to rant and rave some more about that. Plus I'd probably type some more stupid and random stuff that nobody cares about. For instance, oh God. Oh man. Oh I just remembered why I got on here in the first place.

No, I forgot.

TiVo is to be worshipped on days ending in -day.

So I got TiVo for Christmas.

Ahem.

Mathematical Equation:

24 + TiVo = One time when I was a kid and I was in sixth grade and there was this sort of attractive girl in the eighth grade that I had this huge crush on and then I thought I was so cool because I hung out with this 15 year old kid so then I asked her out and I'm really pretty sure that she almost, almost, ALMOST said yes -- well, I thought that I had experienced the coolest moment of my entire human lifespan and I was certain that nothing could ever be more amazing than that moment. Until now. OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. OMG OMG!!!! Jack is frozen in shooter's stance looking totally like the coolest person in the universe. Chloe is moving frame by frame so I can determine whether or not she is actually hot. Curtis looks like a horse when watched in slow motion rewind. President Palmer has some sort of neck tumor. OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AS MANY TIMES AS I WANT FOREVER!!!!! I have to find a way to put a bigger hard drive in this thing so I can store every episode of 24 ever inside of it. Okay?

I am allowed to say that I would like a vagina transplant so that I can have my way with Kiefer Sutherland. Willing donors may contact me at my home between the hours of seven and ten p.m. (P.S. I am not (NOT [NOT!]) gay. So not gay. Really, I mean, I'm not, it's just that, well, Jack is such a badass, you know, and um...)

Acetaminophen Scapegoat

I have come forth with a new song to slap your face off with rock energies and here is a written transcript of the finished version:

[silence - :08]
Acetaminophen!
[guitar solo - 2:45]
Scapegoat!
[guitar solo - 7:31]
[silence - :08]
[guitar solo - :27]
Acetaminophen scapegoat is like a...like a really big...[unintelligible]
[scream]
[guitar solo - 9:40]
[bass solo - :02]
[drum solo - 13:06]
[silence - :08]
[scream]
[silence - :08]
Scapegoat built out of acetaminophen-colored lego bricks from the town of 1937 in the year of Chinese Implosion in the shape of a small wooden chimney on the side of a fake yarn helmet beneath the underbeard of Thor in the closet of a '98 Impala!!!
[synthesizer solo - 207:13]
[guitar outro - :12]
[silence - :05]
[scream]

Yes, that's right. I close with a 207 minute synth solo. So you know. It's good.

P.S. Also I will be covering every song ever created by The Pixies because
A) They are awesome
B) Yes
C) Rolling Stone told me to

















Golfwidow. Why you are so full of wit that it makes my entire life force explode violently into nine hundred eighty three thousand five hundred and six pieces?

Okay. I admit it.

three x five nines

disclaimer Acetaminophen is not a brand name it is the clinical term for a drug which has certain side effects but does not, I repeat NOT, cause herpes or downs syndrome. I am not beholden to you or the retarded prescription drug company you represent. Do not send your neonazi pharmacy hitmen to torture me with ginseng suppositories or st. john's wort. Also I will not play Magic: The Gathering with you because that game is for nine-year-old gay Republican robots from the planet Hobar and I only play cool, socially-accepted RPGs, e.g. Dungeons and Dragons.