I might have accidentally gotten myself banned from Facebook today (or very very soon) for trying to change my name to Comiko Pickles (Pickles is my middle name). But how do they know. How do they know I did not go down to the courthouse yesterday and change my name to Comiko Pickles? Is it really necessary Facebook, to bust my balls on this?
Don't think I won't go to bat on this one. Standing at the stern of my ship, I may go down in flames with my fists pumping the sky for vengeance, but mark my words, I will have my name change; now and forever my name shall be known as Comiko Pickles.*
You can now reach me at comiko dot pickles at gmail dot com, by the way. If you send me your email, I will forward TO YOU, the pickle picture of the day.
I watched two movies last night. One called Dear Zachary: A letter to a son about his father. Warning - Gut wrenchingly beautiful tale. You will cry buckets, then more buckets, then right at the end, total waterfall; you'll leave wanting to battle the Canadian government or shoot a moose or something.
Also (!) a National Geographic special on Mara Salvatrucha (MS13): International Trend Setters. They are the machete chopping gang. Every time you hear about someone getting chopped by a machete, it is probably these guys. That's some pretty fear inducing shit to be honest. I am actually contemplating deleting this post in case they google themselves periodically and find MY blog and hunt me down; for fucks sake, I do not want to be chopped by a machete. Ever. EVER.
Five other things I never want to violently come in contact with my skin:
1. Cheese Grater
3. Nail Clippers
4. False Teeth
5. YOUR MOMS VAGINA
* Now and Forever or until I decide to change it to something else.