And now that I'm fresh out of things to talk about, we're going to start crowd-sourcing humor. This is a pretty experimental procedure, so there's a good chance some of you might not make it. But don't worry. The knowledge gathered here today is sure to allow us to make great strides in the blogging sciences. Basically, I'm going to pester my friends into telling me things to talk about, and then once I decide that their ideas are stupid, but not stupid enough for my tastes, I'll just go where the ague takes me. Sound good?
Well, it seems my friends are too busy ignoring me to have any ideas other than talking about themselves, but they really freaked out when I approached them about sharing my rl fanfics with the boys down at fanfic.net. And the level of teethplay that I mentioned wasn't even a exaggeration. If you guys are seeing this, just know that you could have prevented this. But please keep in mind my inability to experience real human emotions when reading that. It's crucial for the ambiance. I am joking. Right on
I told them that if they didn't give me something else to talk about, I would continue to slander them. So... let the slander continue, I guess. So... my brother, right? Don't tell anyone, but I'm pretty sure that he was the product of a trash compacter getting frisky with a meat packing plant. He showers so often that, according to a www.cracked.com article I read, it's probably bad for his health or something. It had something to do with, I kid you not, a "horny layer". That is something that actual scientists came up with. And this is why I switched from engineering to physics. I just couldn't ignore my horny layer.
Let's not kid ourselves. I may never top that bit about trash compacters getting frisky with meat packing plants. I mean, really. Just think about that what even means. Then draw it, and send it in to the studio, because I have no idea, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I'd like to have an idea, if you know what I mean. Despite the fact that I am clearly over the hump (and also past my prime) I shall persevere, because really, isn't that what the human spirit is all about? And I've still got like, a keg of the stuff left over from last night, so I should probably put it some use. So, here we go:
Very well. And, the first request in the Havoc Mantis all request line-up comes from a girl I have arbitrarily decided to call "Afterlife Battlefront" (I may have called her "secondary content manager" in the past. I don't remember). And what she wants me to talk about is butterflies. Specifically, how scary they are.
|We've all watched Spongebob. What else is there to say?|
But seriously, though. We have all watched Spongebob, right? Because... if there are people reading this blog who haven't watched Spongebob, I am going to lose something, and let me tell you, it won't be my wallet in a gas station bathroom. Not again.
And now she's requesting things that are lewd. Needless to say, I am ignoring them. I mean, I know that panties can have blue stripes. In fact, Trucy Wright (yes relation) performs at the Wonder Bar every night, and people come from all around to see her panties. That's not my joke, folks, that's a Capcom original. Seriously, play that series.
I guess we're now talking about picnics? Except I typed that sentence so long ago that now they're talking about something completely different that I'm not at liberty to discuss. Not that I'm at liberty to discuss picnics, or at least the manly variety. They stem from that one thing. The thing that is forbidden. That one.
|Pic always related|
Now they're making hearts at each other. That's cute.
And now I'll conclude with my standard message, like a kid holding his breath for attention. That simile... probably sounded pretty weird, didn't it? Anyway, There's a good chance I won't be coming back to blogging any time soon, so don't wait up for me. Find a special someone for yourself. All I really want... is for you to be happy. And just like Adele says, "Never mind, I'll find someone like YoooooooooUUUUUUUU". And then she says "Summer" with the emphasis on the second syllable which, as a poet, really mashes my potatoes.