Twitter is OK, I guess. I tend to go on big long posting runs on Twitter, as if it were...well, livejournal. But in little bite-sized pieces. I wonder if anyone's amused or if they want me to fuck off.
This is my latest Twitter-stream:
If I were not in paint I wouldn't even be up now.
If I were not in pain, I wouldn't have just said I was in paint.
What does that first message imply? That I can't sleep because I have been dipped in a big can of paint?
Admittedly, being in a big can of paint is not conducive to slumber.
If I were not in pain, I would not be writing bizarre ramblings about being inserted into paint.
"inserted" is a funny word.
Consider which is funnier: "Germany invaded France", or "the Germans inserted themselves into France".
"US forces have managed to insert themselves into several Taliban strongholds".
"Tragedy today as seven schoolchildren were inserted into a windscreen". Hilarious!
"Barack Obama today inserted himself into the White House, which received him gratefully and with a low moan".
Actually, if the White House ever emitted a low moan, it would be terrifying. That's the way to beat terrorists.
Imagine trying to plant a bomb at the White House, and suddenly, it MOANS! Ernest Goes To Camp-style shenanigans ensue.
The funny thing about Ernest Goes To Camp (and there's just the one) is that Ernest's plan is utterly pointless.
Because oh wow, you drove the workers away. Well, tomorrows they'll be back and you'll be in jail doing time for criminal damage.
And the Indian woman's solution would have worked whether Ernest and the kids had carried out their little A-Team fantasy or not.
And Ernest will go to jail anyway, because even if a developer is not allowed to develop, you're still not allowed to destroy his stuff.
Is Ernest Goes To Jail about the aftermath of Ernest Goes To Camp?
Idea for a movie: Ernest Versus Predator.
Twi-droid. Oh how fucking droll.
This is my latest Twitter-stream:
If I were not in paint I wouldn't even be up now.
If I were not in pain, I wouldn't have just said I was in paint.
What does that first message imply? That I can't sleep because I have been dipped in a big can of paint?
Admittedly, being in a big can of paint is not conducive to slumber.
If I were not in pain, I would not be writing bizarre ramblings about being inserted into paint.
"inserted" is a funny word.
Consider which is funnier: "Germany invaded France", or "the Germans inserted themselves into France".
"US forces have managed to insert themselves into several Taliban strongholds".
"Tragedy today as seven schoolchildren were inserted into a windscreen". Hilarious!
"Barack Obama today inserted himself into the White House, which received him gratefully and with a low moan".
Actually, if the White House ever emitted a low moan, it would be terrifying. That's the way to beat terrorists.
Imagine trying to plant a bomb at the White House, and suddenly, it MOANS! Ernest Goes To Camp-style shenanigans ensue.
The funny thing about Ernest Goes To Camp (and there's just the one) is that Ernest's plan is utterly pointless.
Because oh wow, you drove the workers away. Well, tomorrows they'll be back and you'll be in jail doing time for criminal damage.
And the Indian woman's solution would have worked whether Ernest and the kids had carried out their little A-Team fantasy or not.
And Ernest will go to jail anyway, because even if a developer is not allowed to develop, you're still not allowed to destroy his stuff.
Is Ernest Goes To Jail about the aftermath of Ernest Goes To Camp?
Idea for a movie: Ernest Versus Predator.
Twi-droid. Oh how fucking droll.