Quote by a Sea World Orlando visitor in the Washington Post:
"The question is should we have whales in captivity? These are wild animals," DeVore said, adding, "But my daughter loves those dolphins."
Grossly Inflated Sarcasm:
I am really bummed about child labor, I mean, they are children, but my kids just loves wearing Nike.
When will they stop packaging things excessively? I know there is a landfill problem but I really love ordering Chinese take out and buying medication in little plastic bottles.
Its a shame those people in Africa are enslaved in mines, but damn does my wife really love getting diamonds.
Is it right to be involved in a war based on known lies? There are innocent people dying every day and many more scarred for life, but we do enjoy riding around in our gas guzzling SUV.
Should we be bottling water from rivers in South Florida? It is in short supply and the aquifer is starved but when I work out its great to have it with me and SO convenient!

The more I see, hear, learn, the more I want to drink.

Absolutely unrelated to the previous thought:
I am thinking of applying for this incredible opportunity.
Antarctic Artists & Writers Program — Past Participants
Sunset at the station (photo)

Epically unrelated to anything at fuck all:
When battling the decepticons, one must always remember to transform first. NOT after the initial blood curdling blow, resulting in a crushed spine and pelvis. Also: Never transform into a flower. There really is no use for those things during battle.

The Order of Things

Go to bed, set alarm for 7:00am.
Lay in bed not sleeping.
Decide 7:00am is too early, reset alarm for 7:30am.
Fall asleep.
Wake up at 6:58am because the kittencat wants to play.
Giggle for 5 minutes at furry cuteness.
Debate getting up.
Decide 20 more minutes of sleep sounds awesome.
Curl up in comforter, drift into semi-conscious dream state.
(Power blinks on and off, resetting all clocks to 12:00)
Wake up at 8:25.
Scream FUCK very loudly.


lonely boy


Found: (cough)

Day 056: Up

Rocky and Bullwinkle fan

How one idiot can set in motion standards that defy logic for everyone else.
Common sense used to be free of charge, now its an undergraduate course.
Your kid should be used for lunchmeat.

Why are children protected like they are stuffed with cherub down and bedazzled with diamonds. If one has not learned by the 6th grade to avoid large metal objects (traveling at 20mph), one does not deserves to graduate into 7th.
Why do middle school children need crossing guards at intersections inside of neighborhoods that have walk/dont walk signals? Are these people paid to guide kids across the street because I would rather my tax dollars went to something other than protecting the retarded. By high school we have all invested enough in their education to justify, but honestly, evolution should be allowed to weed out unnecessary outliers naturally.
I live less than a mile from a Middle School. The neighborhood's posted speed limit is 35mph. There are sidewalks on both sides of every street. There are two school zones, monitored by 3 cops each, 2-4 random days out of the week, in which you must go 20mph. There are two crossing guards on my drive to the school: one at an intersection that has a working traffic light and another right in front of the school (where there is the school's liaison officer - can he not do this job, every morning he does nothing but talk to the principal, who also stands to watch this intersection - 3 people 1 job), which has 4 stop signs and relies on people remembering the rules of the road when the crossing guard isn't there (oh my fucking gawd what will we do!).
Ok. Crazy excessive. I am almost surprised I do not see guard rails to keep children on the sidewalks and out of control neighborhood traffic (those crazy soccer moms) on the road.

I am going to propose this at the municipalities next council meeting.

ice cream sucks anyway.


Day 055: Rags


I'm all like "Why can't you remove your shoes?"
And you're all like "Because they are sandals."
And then I'm all like "Why must you be a fucking prick?"
Then you're all like "Why must you be a fucking cunt?"
We fist fight and its like when Rocky and Apollo caught each other in the same knockout moment.
I wake up in a pool of drool, hair matted to my cheeks.
You smile and a few of your teeth fall out.
So then, I am all "Can we get a cup of coffee?"
And you're all "Two JDs for me and Larry Love."

Cabernet: Fat Bastard.
Food: Pork Chops sauteed in soy sauce and olive oil.
Movie: 28 Days Later.
Location: Road to Nowhere.

Wapner's on at 6.


Found: There's a mystery to solve.

can you pass the creamer, please.

Day 054: Letters

The Clash: Bankrobber


Manic Monday was so manic is flew back and retrieved Thursday for a cocktail with next Wednesday.
Hello Tuesday, so nice to see you.

I am itchy and require lotion.

I find that there are days I edit more curse words out than other days and wonder if there is a correlation with me appearing deceptive/secretive (I appear deceptive/secretive). Maybe they are my conspiracy days and you should not trust anything I say (not that you should any other day, sorry, I am trying, these things take awhile I am told). Count the curse words. Minimal (you'll see). This is training for your eventual job screening films for the MPAA, lighten up, I haven't even begun with the puzzles. I think your hair looks nice. Buy chalk.

My chest has been hurting since Sunday morning. I am pretty sure it isn't a heart attack but just in case - it has always been... interesting. Thank you for the entertainment, world. Seriously.

Peeps > Girl Scout Cookies

Tuesday Afternoon should be a part of everyone's listening experience today.

Paranoia sucks unless you have lollipops.

I didn't think I needed to point out that in addition to not kicking penguins, dont go fucking any either. Just so we have that covered.

Walkabouts should not be done prior to college or in a wheelchair. Breeding and TV have taught me these two things.

Sneezing cleanses your soul. Practice.

I smell fire all the time and when I do, I always assume it is one I have set on accident or through negligence. This will never happen. On the drive home yesterday, I saw smoke and figured I had left the stove on after all, even though I checked twice before leaving for work and traveled back home to check again after coming to the conclusion the times I was remembering that I checked the stove happened the other morning not thirty minutes prior, therefore leaving the possibility wide open, I had set everything ablaze, it's all my fault, I drown in embarrassment.
Fire might also be why I don't keep anything I don't have to. Less kindling.

Wine, wine, wine, you are required in very large amounts after nine.
AM, but I'll wait. I have the time.

Kid ink-to-skin scrawling has reached new geek levels. I am... stupidly impressed with my child and her peers. Written on her hand was an equation for an imaginary number followed by 2 to the 3rd power then the symbol for SUM and the symbol for Pi.
If anyone would like a sharpie tear scrawled on their cheek, let me know. I have lower standards for amusement.



Day 050: Three People

disease and monikers

Kid A: I'm not a hugger. At school, the people, they are always trying to give you a hug. I don't want to hug. I am always afraid of getting some cold or some disease or some hug herpes or something. Sorry, no hugs. Except Saxon. I hug Saxon.
Me: Who is Saxon?
Kid B: The guy who gave you Brian AIDs?
Kid A: No thats Josh.
Kid B: He's a supercreeper.
Kid A: Yea. Saxon is Julian the Douchebag's twin.
Kid B: Oh. That guy.

: |

Found: Masturbation Fodder

PSA: Get Busy

DJ Universe Z

Listen to the signs. They are coming at you from all directions.

On the radio, some DJ is playing tunes and talking about... who knows. The subject doesn’t matter - it was what he said.
He says (to me): “You can call Topeka, Anchorage or even Shanghai.”
I have lived in Kansas and Alaska. So I guess I am moving to Shanghai at some point.
These small conclusions of mine keep me moving forward, follow the yellow line please, hands to yourself.

The Universe has spoken. This is what she had to say: “Bunny. You are moving about too fast. You need to slow down. You are going to burn out in a heap of ashes that will blow away in the wind. Do this now.” Yea. Totally gave The Universe the finger.
I worry a lot about heart attacks after reading about an artist who worked non stop until he dropped dead at 40. I don't want to drop dead at 40. Or 45. I could eat more green things and declare cheese is of the devil. Green things are good.

There is this box in my closet. My mother gave it to me years ago. She had always mentioned it as the box that I would get when she died, which is pretty morbid, not in the sense that we were talking about her death – more that I was like getting a prize at that point.
I suppose I should feel a little weird that suddenly she decided to give it to me. The death box was passed to me before the death. Did she THINK she was going to die? Did she WANT to die? Did she DIE and I not know it? What are you trying to tell me?
My Mother the Zombie. “Hey mom, can you eat that guys face off? Holy shit, my mom is eating that guy's face off; you are such an awesome mom.”
So, the box contains all this stuff from my childhood. Report cards, school pictures, awards, doodles she found laying around… garbage really. It isn’t like I ever go through the box. It was obviously not important enough for me to have kept these items, or I would have. Yet, I am compelled to hold on to the death box because she bothered to save all this shit for me over the span of 18 years. Stupid death box. I could own 5 more sweaters if it wasn’t for you.

On second thought, don't tell me what to do.

Found: Don't do it, bastards.


Day 049: Wood and Metal


Men: Come to terms with the wood, bang it out if needed.
Women: I have nothing at all to say to you. Sorry, check back tomorrow.
Children: Go outside and play, you bastards.
Animals: Sorry we fucked it all up. So. Fucking. Sorry.
Plants: I wish you could all be as cool as the asparagus.
Government: You should be ashamed of yourselves, get your nooses.
Religion: Keep to yourself, not everyone wants to be slimed.
Science: Way to go. Keep being fucking awesome.
Troglodytes: Please, use a condom.
Industry: Seize upon all the tiger has to offer you. Exponential growth potential.
Internet: You contain aardvarks and the Z Machine. Badass squared.
Creativity: You help me to imagine new ways in which to use my uterus.
Oral Sex: There is not a goddamn thing you can't solve.
Books: You open doors, for those that open yours.


Day 048: Routed Sintra


Oh Internet

Oh Internet.
How vast you are. So great. So big. In the span of time it took to write this sentence, you quadrupled in size (mostly due to an increase in porn). So chock full of information and able to help us in t-minus three seconds if need be (if the connection isn’t running on a 56K modem, in which case, well, you should be shot at this point, troglodyte). Want to go to Cairo, BAM, you are there (likelihood of getting lost = 85%, you are not perfect internet but fuck it, you TRY). You never get boring for you are growing faster than any one of us can keep up; the erection that just won't quit, lookie there, you're sporting another two inches - FUN!

Oh Internet.
How you provide endless amounts of entertainment. You have clown porn and online scrabble. You combine sharks and tigers in a zoo of Chaotic Insanity. Where can I see 300,000 photos of cats fighting - only on you, internet. Your giggles and WTF viewing moments have sustained my scattered brain for over a decade. I buy your year pass at a discount for Florida residents. I would even pay full price, you are that amazing. How can I deny your loveliness? I can’t. Sold.

Oh Internet.
You connect the unconnectable. I can talk to a man in Argentina about how to fix my toilet and a woman in Germany about erotica for penguins. I can buy crazy purses at a discount and learn how to resurface my wood floors with a toothbrush. You reach such great heights. You pave the way to glory and glory holes. If only you could do my laundry and dishes, we might fuck until the sun came up; or at least until I got electrocuted. I would go there for you, Internet, I would go there. for. you.



Found: One Nation Under Chtulu

My new favorite image.
I love you internets.


Sales: Good morning, can I ask a favor?
Designer: Go for it.
Sales: Can you print me out something as soon as possible?
Designer: How large is the file?
Sales: Can you print it as soon as possible?
Designer: How many pages does the file contain?
Sales: Can you print it as soon as possible?
Designer: I have three jobs in front of it.
Sales: The Client will be sending the file over this morning, can you print it out as soon as possible?
Designer: As soon as I get the file I can put it in the queue.
Sales: I really need to get this turned around today, can you print it out as soon as possible?
Designer: I can only go as fast as this printer right here goes [points to printer].
Sales: Can you print it out as soon as possible?
Designer: ...
Sales: Can you print it out as soon as possible?
Designer: Yes.

Pear and Pomegranate. Reality.


Manic Monday

While relaxing, sharing some mutual silence, I was asked, “What are you thinking about?”
Under normal circumstances (lie) I would have been contemplating the finer points of the Universe. But I replied, “The contents of a Monopoly game.”
And that was a true statement.

Everyone should wear hats and gloves more often. I do not mean baseball caps and fingerless motorcycle gloves. Where has elegance gone, oh where oh where can it be?
Maybe I just need to live further north.
Maybe I just need a time machine.

Worst Night Ever and Best Weekend Ever.
Life (sometimes) has a habit of kicking me squa in the fucking teeth. And then sometimes, right afterwards, it will lay me down on rose petals and kiss on my toes with satin lips.
Life can be a fickle fucking bitch.

Keanu Reeves is a tool but I still dig The Matrix.

All fruit has a window in which it must be eaten or it becomes disgusting. I don’t know if that window is only milliseconds long, or if I am blacking out, but I can’t seem to ever eat a piece of fruit. Its looks either too green or like it has been playing full contact football outside in the rain.

The face of my cell phone displays the time, numerical date and day (as Sunday, Monday, etc…). I noticed today that it does not include the month and I wonder why AT&T assumes I know what month it is.

My feet might not like 5 inch heels but my ass sure does.

I did not think the production 'The Phantom of the Opera' would have parts in it that were slightly humorous or that might make people laugh. Possibility 1: Not all operatic stars are created equally. Possibility 2: Orlando's Theatre crowd need more manners (this is a given - how dare one walk in to a performance late or talk for any reason - so unbelievably tacky). Possibility 3: Aliens.

Girl Scout cookies. What's the big fucking deal?

Love, love love my new haircut but the bits of red color are not as dramatic as I had expected. Maybe because I saw the stylist with light auburn highlights in her brown hair instead of the chick with the pink, green and blue bangs in her bleached blonde hair. Such is my hypothesis.

I am pretty sure I am having a secret love affair with corn. Maize. Yes, the yellow, kernel stuff that grows on stalks.

Zombies really freak me out. Any time I have watched a zombie movie and then watch a movie with no zombies right after, I watch the entire second film thinking at any moment zombies will come out. I cannot get near windows without thinking zombies might bust through if they see my shadow or if I make too much noise. I definitely can NOT go outside for the rest of the night.
This leads me to believe zombie movies are to be watched back to back only, minimizing my long term stress.

I did nothing to save the world this weekend; the world didn't try to save me either.
Even Stevens.

(Lost and) Found: Bunny Hat


fighting extinction

no cure desired

Happy Bloody Valentines Day

Dear Cupid,
You bastard.
There is an arrow sticking out of my ass and I am sure you are to blame.
All this time and you STILL haven't taken Archery 101? COME ON!

Dear Lonely Hearts Club Band,
Shut up. You rule like... 364 days of the year.

Dear Puppies and Flowers Crowd,
Don't make me fucking hurl today.
That was your warning.
I have an arrow and I am not afraid to use it.

Dear Chocolate,
I hate you so much.
Now, jump in my mouth.

Dear Friends,
If nothing else....
Everybody Wang Chung tonight.

Happy Bloody Valentines Day.

Found: Please Try Again


Day 044: Nude Night

for always

needs + wants

I saw her today at a reception
A glass of wine in her hand

I knew she would meet her connection

At her feet was her footloose man

To love and be loved, to respect and be respected, room to grow and the personal space in which to reflect upon such.
Someone to share with the discovery of self. Someone who will marvel of the vastness of the universe.
Someone with whom I can giggle at the chaos of both, never taking anything too seriously.
Honesty, fortitude, laughter, curiosity, tenderness, affection, conversation, thoughtfulness, partnership.

Childlike games.
Desire dripping from my fingertips.
Sarcastic banter.
To be stroked like a cat.
Mental stimulation.
Freedom of expression.
Rose petals at my feet.
Butterflies in my stomach.
Sweetness whispered into my ears.
Passion in my bed.
A shoulder to cry on and a lap to collapse in.
Uncontrollable laughter.
An anchor, a rock.

You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you might find

You get what you need

Nah, Mick, you are wrong.
I get what I want too.

Found: The Only Way Out


sorry rabbit but you've been chopped

I am getting my hair cut (and probably colored) this weekend. No clue how I want it to look but I am so freaking excited I could pee myself (not really).
For the last fifteen years I have done nothing to this mop aside from growing and hacking it off in order to donate to varying wigs for kids cancer organizations; fucking Mother Theresa. I set a goal of 4 donations (at the time I started that was how many donations it took to make an actual full wig) but ended up donating 5 times, not because I am in line for sainthood but because I seriously had no idea what else to do. Me: All outta ideas.
Bald. Thats a look.

There is some kinda chemical breakdown going on in my brain. Since I have been responsible for myself, no matter the circumstances, buying toilet paper and paper towels completely eludes me. I am in the aisle; I think we have enough; we NEVER have enough. Never. Never in my life have I ever had an abundance of either of these items in the house yet I still go through the same routine, every time I am at the grocery store.
Self aware system, unable to recode itself. Sad.

If you were possessed by some demon as a young adult, I have an idea to seriously turn that shit in your favor. If you can convince the demon that you are cool with sharing a body, think about how easy it would be to cheat on tests in school. Your demon could just carve the answers into your skin from the inside. No ink stains on your palms blurring with sweat, no little concealed notes falling on the floor at the wrong time, and no trips to the principals office head hung low. NO TRACE. Of course, I am thinking that it might hurt. And of course, bleeding during exam time might make them send you to the school nurse instead.
But they give lollipops sometimes I think. Or they should.

balls to the wall

don't peel the label off

When using this product do not exceed recommended dose (see overdose warning)

Relief of pain.
Temporary relief of nausea associated with boredom.
Creative inspiration in the form of scientific experimentation.
Regeneration of hope, trust, peace of mind, love.
Delusions involving pandas, kittencats, bunnies, platypi, otters or tigers.

Two giggles and an orgasm every four to six hours.
Repeat until dead.

Redness or swelling occurs.
Coughing IS accompanied with severe desire to vomit.
Taking a prescription monoamine oxidase inhibitor (MAOI) or for two weeks after stopping the MAOI drug.
Pain gets worse or lasts for more than five days.
Whining gets worse or lasts for more than seven days.
Psychotic episodes get worse or last for more than 2 weeks.
Anal leakage.

Taking more than the recommended dose (overdose) may cause extreme levels of excitability and heart palpitations. In case of overdose seek sadomasochistic behavior until symptoms subside or deep sleep is achieved from sexual exhaustion.

Store at temperatures ranging from 65 to 72 degrees.


Limited Time Offer - Don't Miss This Event!

this blog is retarded

We have a few public service announcements this morning concerning stupidity, please stand by.

Pronunciation: \ri-ˈtär-dəd\
Function: adjective
Definition: slow or limited in intellectual or emotional development or academic progress

Yes bunnies, its about to get ugly. Again.
Sometimes the word retarded is absolutely fitting in describing something or someone and is NOT meant to degrade or demean mentally challenged individuals. Like when I say "Cheesus, that shirt looks fucking retarded" because it is yellow striped and one is wearing it with pants that are too short. Or when at a bar and someone mentions religion, I might ask "You retard, don't you know its a sin to bring up god when wine is around?" Or when used to describe anything that comes out of Sarah Palin's mouth; thats another time one might use the word retarded, in excess probably.
In the above three examples we have: dress obviously slow in catching up to 2010, one idiot slow in remembering you do not speak of either religion or politics when alcohol is involved (a rule I have a hard time following myself and therefore fully accept said moniker for the moment in which I am poking dead things with sticks) and the last example is of extreme intellectual obstruction.
Ok, maybe not everything that comes out of her mouth is retarded, that might be me being mean (pollsters are still tabulating). I am sure she says some things in private to her family that are quite lovely and sound sane; but read a transcript of anything else (interviews are tres awesome) yea, uh, totally fucking retarded. She has some sort of Kryptonite-like substance blocking the formation of complete sentences or concise thoughts. When I listen to her speak and I watch people clap I wonder, "Are you all fucking retarded, what she just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in her rambling, incoherent response was she even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened. I award her no points, and may God have mercy on all of your souls."
Transcripts, I am telling you, it's all in the transcripts.
Why you would be describing mentally challenged people by any sort of tag is sort of beyond me at this point. They are people. Just like you, just like me, just bent in a way we are not (and believe me, some of us are bent in far stranger ways). "That guy is white. That guy is Italian. That guy is mentally challenged." No assholes. "That guy's name is Jim" - anything else makes you sound... well, retarded.

So now, my point(s). If I ever had one (pollsters are currently suicidal).

Round 1 of the worst damn thing I have heard/seen in awhile:
There was a popular radio show on the other morning. The object of the game they were playing, was to figure out whether the callers (4 of them) were mentally handicap or just acting. The female host asks a series of questions and the callers answer and one by one she picks them off as either actors or mentally challenged. Now, in order to properly bitch, I listened to the entire damn thing, so I could be sure of what I was actually hearing, as it occured to me for a moment it might all be one big set up joke. But no. She eliminated all three actors and was down to the final caller, who ended up being mentally challenged. Good job, Scooby Doo, the mystery is solved. What was sad and convinced me this game was real, was that when she finally asked the last caller, he started to apologize to her like he had done something wrong or that it was bad that he was slower in getting his thoughts together. It was all so sadly subtle, even the tone of the co-hosts voice changed as he tried to make lighthearted jokes and get it all back to humorous (I, at no point, found any of it humorous), "We have a fabulous prize to give you for playing, thank you." I started to cry.
The caller wasn't retarded but that brainless chick asking the questions, the producers of the show, and any idiot listening who thought that was even remotely funny, sure as shit is.

We have far more problems in this country that need to be addressed that do not involve closed door cabinet meetings, where out of frustration, someone important yells something angrily in private that no one outside of that room was meant to hear in the first place. And that is all I am saying about that.

Round 2 of the worst damn thing I have heard/seen in awhile:
Animal Planet had a show on last night about some snake handler in Vegas, temporarily living in a big aquarium full of snakes, in which more snakes were added daily, end count somewhere around 75, or well, thats when I turned the show off. He was sleeping in a glass room with green mambas, diamond back rattlesnakes, coral snakes, poisonous poisonous your brains will leak out of your ears poisonous snakes, FOR WHAT?!??! FOR FUCKING WHAT?!?!?! It sort of went something like this (double the expletives, I tend to use the word fuck in groups of three when really irritated):
Whoa, what's this guy doing, did he just say he is sleeping in that box, are you fucking kidding me, who the fuck sleeps in a fucking box with a shitload of poisonous snakes! This fuck deserves to get bit, oh no, we are waiting to see this motherfucker get attacked, how fucking dumb do you have to be to get on TV? Can he not just teach us about fucking snakes like fucking Steve Irwin, why the fuck would someone choose to stay the night in a fucking small as fuck room with enough snakes to kill all of fucking Vegas? Those fucking snakes don't even want to be around each other, why the fuck would he want to spend multiple nights in that kind of fucking hostile environment, am I loosing my fucking mind here? This guy is a FUCKING RETARD!!!

Was hit twice this week.
Please sir, a drink.

(This is my formal apology to anyone who I may have offended for using the word retarded. I did not mean to anger you in any way. Yes, I fully agree I am childish; I recognize and work on that every day. I feel so guilty, cringing anytime it falls from my lips thinking, I am evolved, I can shed my troglodyte coat, I can do better than this, why did I use a word that may offend others, I don't run around using the N word, why would I run around using the R word. Furthermore, my rampant use today has given me an ulcer and I will probably attend Mass on Sunday to ask for forgiveness, even though I don't believe in redemption from a mythological figure in the sky. Oh my fucking gawd, I am sorry, and right now, apologize to all the religious people as well, for saying that or offending you in any way on account of perceived sarcasm that might have been dripping from that sentence. Also, while I am at it, I would like to apologize to Leah for ranting about inappropriate uses of flags two years ago, my mother for a head of gray hair, and my podiatrist who I never returned to see. Sorry, so utterly sorry for my incompetence as a human being.)


After School Special: Cursing

Kid B: [kid speak kid speak school friend name kid speak kid speak] shit [kid speak friend name kid speak]
Me: You know, you sound more eloquent when you manage to replace cursing with words that mean the same thing. You are intelligent. Work on choosing better words, will you? You are going to slip up in the wrong place and I am going to laugh when you get in trouble. It's going to be funny even though I will be mildly embarrassed because it is a reflection on my parenting. Man. Don't make me look bad. Just because I don't yell at you or freak out for cursing doesn't mean every environment is like that, remember that. You can't curse at Grandma's, or anyone else's house, in fact what am I thinking, don't curse at all anywhere, nowhere outside of the yard, no, the house and if no one else is here then thats fine but not a lot. I tell you things like there are no bad words, because there aren't, I mean, come on, how can a word be bad; there are just BETTER words we can use always; this is not license to fly off at the mouth.
* random cat runs right in the front of the car *
* brakes applied - disaster averted *

Me: An appropriate and legitimate use of the word Fuck.
Kid B: I absolutely agree.

: |

shh. you will disturb the bees.


I will repent tomorrow

The side of my face hurts like I was punched by a cactus. Prick.

The Gasparilla Pirate Festival's Illuminated Parade otherwise known as Endless Floats with Cheap Beads That Will One Day Find Their Way into a Landfill If They Don't Gag the Shit Out of Some Stupid Dog That Eats Them or Choke a Random Baby with Idiot Parents Who Watch Too Much Jerry Springer and Not Enough Kid (too much, because everyone needs a LITTLE Jerry), was um.... fun this weekend, minus how heavy my karma has plummeted as a result of attending. One day they are not going to be able to make the plastic for those beads anymore. I hope they throw spaghetti instead. Two hours later, neck filled with sparkly precious baubles, we were hungry enough to eat a drag queen.
I wish that people could get that excited without gross amounts of waste (Bonnaroo, sigh) but I am pretty sure they can't, so, well, um, I guess I don't care either.

The side of my face aches like I have been poisoned by a lethal frog. Inject.

Nah. I care. I totally fucking care.
Consumers, I am generally afraid of you. You buy things you do not need. For prices, you cannot afford. In quantities, that are embarrassing.
You horde things like the Apocalypse will require coasters in blue, yellow AND green. I have stood witness as you scream, jump up and down, run over small children and kiss drunk strangers for one $0.05 plastic, lead-based painted set of beads most likely put together by children in China. You have learned nothing from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. And you sucked me into your tiny web of shiny, distracting trinkets and I swam. I swam the backstroke in the Hepatitis pool with Satan's environmentally oblivious children.
My soul's brightness... the horror. The horror.

The side of my face, ugh. Plunge.