invertebrate coworker you had best back off before my morning coffee orgy

I would like a bootleg copy of Life. Ya. Like, the one I am living.
Get to it hackosauruses, Thanks.

Last night I had John Waters dreams and although I will not get into specifics (lady with the 20 studs in her nipples, hall monitor mountain lions) I woke up this morning certain I will never ever get a tattoo of a backyard BBQ with a panda passed out on a picnic table. Never. Ever. You can bank on that.

Other things you may bank on:
The internet being a medium for bizarro porn procurement and family photo albums with far too many pictures of kids doing things like opening presents, receiving awards and eating.
Anything you think may be healthy eventually discovered to give you some form of cancer.
What you thought you knew being trumped by what your neighbor has been able to gather through surveillance.
In any given crowd, any given situation, you can always count on a douchebag to be present and possibly accounted for.
God, in the 0.0000000000003% chance he/she/it exists, doesn't give a FUCK about you. Come on. Prayer? Seriously?

GD: Generation Drama. It’s all I see every day – Drama. Drama in the office, Drama walking down the street, Drama in the grocery store, Drama at home, Drama on the TV, Drama on the internet. If you haven’t seen Drama in less than 12 hours, you may be having withdrawals, which just MAY be why you are logged on, patched in, hooked up trying to get your Drama fix now.
Me too. I am here for the Drama.
Come on. Let’s start some shit. Some DRAMA. Come on. Drama.
All your friends are doing it.

I really wish I had had a dream with Gandhi Tyrannosaurus Rex in it.