Dear diaries are stupid...
It's been a long time. New layout. Dresden Dolls rock my knickers.
There's no way I can predict that my maternal uncle I haven't seen in 8 years, who has a long list of felonies behind him, will come to my front door on a monsoon-season night, pallid moon backlighting his grizzled frame and all, begging me to pose as his 12-year-old daughter just returned from Romania so he can get dependent benefits from welfare.
There's no way I can predict that I'll stumble onto an underground bunker full of 100-gallon cabins which are filled with finger-and-toenail clippings from most of the world's political, religious, and entertainment leaders from the last 90 years.
There's no way I can predict that I'll have to wait an hour in the express lane of the Winn Dixie just to buy a lousy pack of brushed-suede-scented condoms I'll probably only use on rare occasions, such as when I'm asked for a night out by Jesus or just as well, David Bowie.
But then, that element of surprise is just life's way of popping up from behind the couch in a dark room and shouting "BOOGA-BOOGA!!"
I'm glad I got that off my chest.
The real reason why I haven't posted for so long is quite valid.
There were these bugs. Yeah. Ladybugs, though I suspect some of them were crossdressing. They had these huge fangs that must have been five- no! Twenty-five feet long!! They started this massive fire which was only escapable by joining a fleet of cut-throats from Long Island and hopping a plane to the Gulf of Thailand.
Things were going just fine and I was just about ready for my return to Rochester when suddenly I caught the plague. Well, not the plague, per se, but one of the more common, but lesser known plagues you can only catch by eating rat feces. I know it sounds disgusting, but I'd seen it in a movie once and it seemed like the thing to do at the time.
Unfortunately, the plague caused both my arms to fall off and die and I had to learn alternate forms of writing. But don't ya know, once I got the whole pen-in-mouth thing down, my arms had gotten better.
And thus how I am able to type out this page of nonsense for your reading pleasure.
There's no way I can predict that my maternal uncle I haven't seen in 8 years, who has a long list of felonies behind him, will come to my front door on a monsoon-season night, pallid moon backlighting his grizzled frame and all, begging me to pose as his 12-year-old daughter just returned from Romania so he can get dependent benefits from welfare.
There's no way I can predict that I'll stumble onto an underground bunker full of 100-gallon cabins which are filled with finger-and-toenail clippings from most of the world's political, religious, and entertainment leaders from the last 90 years.
There's no way I can predict that I'll have to wait an hour in the express lane of the Winn Dixie just to buy a lousy pack of brushed-suede-scented condoms I'll probably only use on rare occasions, such as when I'm asked for a night out by Jesus or just as well, David Bowie.
But then, that element of surprise is just life's way of popping up from behind the couch in a dark room and shouting "BOOGA-BOOGA!!"
I'm glad I got that off my chest.
The real reason why I haven't posted for so long is quite valid.
There were these bugs. Yeah. Ladybugs, though I suspect some of them were crossdressing. They had these huge fangs that must have been five- no! Twenty-five feet long!! They started this massive fire which was only escapable by joining a fleet of cut-throats from Long Island and hopping a plane to the Gulf of Thailand.
Things were going just fine and I was just about ready for my return to Rochester when suddenly I caught the plague. Well, not the plague, per se, but one of the more common, but lesser known plagues you can only catch by eating rat feces. I know it sounds disgusting, but I'd seen it in a movie once and it seemed like the thing to do at the time.
Unfortunately, the plague caused both my arms to fall off and die and I had to learn alternate forms of writing. But don't ya know, once I got the whole pen-in-mouth thing down, my arms had gotten better.
And thus how I am able to type out this page of nonsense for your reading pleasure.