can tell by your middle finger, you’re warming up to me

[In the fan: "Luuuuke, I am your faaatheeeeeer" + Singing: "Well like a broken clock that can't tell time"] * [(Rational Thought + Paranoia) – sadomasochistic tendency] / time, sanity, creative pursuit involving fur = Train Wreck². Not sure it's a good idea but when have I ever had GOOD ideas. Honestly. Give me some coal.

I have had a Charley horse of the mind for the last 3 years.

Like riding a bike, eh? Pollsters, get your clipboards ready.

Rounding out the category “Your life is a conglomerate of shit that just doesn’t quite go together” is Entering a Chili Cook-off. I have no idea what makes a good chili, what other chili’s have going for them that people tend to look for when falling in love with chili, or any chili knowledge what-so-ever… basically because I don’t like chili (outside of my own, of course) and avoid eating it as a general rule (along with keep your fucking fork out of the light socket). Things that burn my tongue or cause them to go numb with fiery hate do not appeal to me. WHY would you consume anything that made you cry while eating? Mucous membranes swollen and leaking fluid – I mean, gross. Who wants to accidentally snot all over their food.

Sort of hope I get to wear some kind of hat and/or apron to this event.

Beret? Bowler? Burka? BAM!

“Chef Supreme with Anchovies has just been removed from our competition following the discovery of goldfish as a main ingredient.”

Some things change, some will forever, remain the same.

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