The Best day of my life initiative – five and dime

Welcome to the best day of my life initiative, the blog I write really late at night after promising myself I would do anything today, literally anything – eat a crocodile tooth that prior to my chewing was still deeply rooted in its owners gums, tattoo ‘I love being spat on by strangers’ on my face, corner an office worker and refuse to let them leave until they had given me every secret possible on how to get hired in an entry level data entry internship, I’m talking literally any stupid thing I could imagine, even some things not evolving any entry or exit of anything, well known to be the corner stones of stupid activities, what I am getting at is that I would do absolutely anything whatsoever to avoid writing this blog once again super late at night, and yet somehow I end up only eating crocodile teeth that were only shallowly rooted in the crocodiles mouth, illicit my face getting spat on with smoke signals and bus stop billboards, and end up getting paid shitloads of money for all the entry level data entry I do, and then somehow end up  writing this super late again. So late in fact that I barely even have time to dick around with nonsense at the top, and time and time again need to run straight to proving that today was indeed the best day of my life.

Like right now I have zero time to dick around, I’d love to just muck about, riffing on whatever comes to my head, whether relevant to how cool, complete, and complication free my awesome day was, or not. I could write about all sorts of things if given the time. Like for example prison riots, I could probably discuss them at length, perhaps break them down into type, location, motivation, goals, mission statements, ring leader types, outcomes and results, and all in all manner of specific detail, to the point where prison riots were finally completely understood to levels allowing them to be predicted, minimized and occasionally even completely avoided. I could dick about talking about something like for literally ten or twelve minutes, even if prison riots had very little to do with the day I had just enjoyed, like today for example where my experiences with prison riots was limited to a small scuffle over at Belzion Maximum Security over who’s turn it was to stir the home made clam chowder.

But I don’t have time for that type of activity, no way. All I have time for is to remain focused and on point, and simply explain my day, and why it was the best of my life, inspire the shit out of a few of my readers, but with direct language, uninterrupted flow, and precision accuracy, with no going off on tangents, or employing any form of experimentation, or getting sideswiped with back track detours. It’s just too late, I need to focus, get this done quickly, but interestingly and obviously not skimping on any of the quality.

Ok fine, I get it, you want me to at least flirt with something away from the cold hard facts. Ok, um – have you ever wondered why most basketball hoops aren’t made out wood? No? Me neither!!

Ok, awesome, that was totally worth the diversion. So like I was saying, today was the best day of my life. It was really, really fun. I slept in a bit, I ate some food, and this evening I went to a place that I didn’t think would be good, in a part of town I don’t tend to desire visiting, mostly with people I don’t know cozily, and I had a really good time. There is a lesson in there somewhere, possibly about not focusing on what you expect and instead just enjoy what actually happens in reality. No. Um, good times don’t necessarily have to come from reliable sources. Nah. Um, well, ok I think I got it – save some time, and money (ding – the title of this blog comes good) and that’ll probably feel good. Yep, nailed it.

Alright I need to have a quick snack then hit the sack, hmmm, maybe this time I’ll try a deeply gum rooted alligator tooth! 

The Best Day of my Life – four flying coat hangers

Hello everyone, so this is the best day of my life initiative, the blog posts I write really late at night when I really want to go to sleep, but have to do this because I promised myself I would, which sounds all negative and stuff, but it isn’t, because the whole concept of this blog is that I cast my mind over my day, and everything that took place during it, with an admiring glance, no more than that, a leer, as I picture my day as flawless, no more than that, perfect! Wait, is perfect more than flawless? It kind of has to be doesn’t it, because by definition if something is perfect then there can not be anything better. But flawlessness is pretty sweet too. Wait, no it’s not – that just means there aren’t any mistakes, like in my writing skills, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the thing you are talking about is actually good. You can be mediocre, unlike my writing skills, and still be flawless. Wait, I’ll prove it.

Kevin climbed the stairs.

Now that sentence was fucking flawless. All the words are in the right order, something happens, and we know who it happens too, and where it happens, and yet we are left with a sense of wonder, and anticipation, I mean, who is Kevin? Where are these stairs? What’s at the top of them? And for that matter what was at the bottom that was so scary/ not interesting that he left that behind for the potential safety/ more interesting excitement at the top. It’s almost brilliant in its simplicity, it’s not over thought, or played out. It’s informative yet intriguing. It’s captivating yet simple.

Wait a minute, wait a minute, oh fuck it is brilliant, aw man. Fuck, I have just gone and undermined my whole goddamn point. I wanted to write a flawless sentence that WASN’T also actually good. Well fuck me in the mosquito bite.

Shit, that last sentence was flawless and also visually stunning. I can’t be fucking stopped.

But why should I be stopped. I can write about whatever I want here, even about four flying coat hangers, if I want to, even though that’s in the title, and normally I wouldn’t want to reveal why until far deeper into my piece on my day, to save it as an illuminating and exciting reveal, like when a magician takes off his cloak and reveals that he’s actually just a loser playing with metal rings. Which sounds all negative and stuff, but it isn’t because he’s a magical loser.

So there were four flying coat hangers. Who knows why, or how, or why? It’s not important. Because as I have proven not giving everything away is a sign of brilliance, and that’s where I am stuck today, being bloody brilliant.

Oh great, alliteration, an awesome literary trick, I can’t stop.

The point is, today was the best day of my life. I had an audition that went well, I got some good work done, I ate a cookie, and I had several drops of sweat roll into my butt crack. I frigging nailed it. And I feel good.  I’m pretty sure at some point I consumed a beverage, and that’s awesome. In fact only one thing happened all day that I have regrets over – I wanted to write a sentence that was flawless but not amazing, I think I will give it one last shot.

Explode the crises.

Now that’s just damn right extraordinary. I think I may literally be perfect. 

Ps. Any remanding gramitcal or spelling mistakes in this piece were left in on purpose as part of my flawless war on perfection, and in no way represent a lack of being bothered to edit. 

The best day of my life initiative – three festering t-shirts

Hello people, assuming that most of the people reading this blog are in fact people, which is a matter of fact more than an assumption. The only ‘people’ who read this blog are definitely people. But that says nothing of the potential monkeys, invisible light beams, gas leaks, kittens, alien shoulder blades, or even (name a famous or notorious person you think has done such horrific things as to no longer warrant being considered a human here) well none of those things are human are they? And of course they’re reading this, so why did I discount their tireless, and generous reading truths?

Today was the best day of my life. Now here is something I have learned, when the only rules of your awesome new project have been cleverly crafted to ensure two and only two things:

1.     To live every day as if it is, and was, the best day of your life.

2.     To write at least a page about it before bed.

 Then two things seem to happen:

1.     Your life can turn out to be somewhat busy.

2.     It’s easy to procrastinate doing the writing until well after your planned bedtime.

Also there are two other things to note here:

1.     My life would have been really friggin’ busy regardless.

2.     I would have procrastinated the shit out of this regardless.

I think we have two of strong lessons here. 

1.     Separating the writing of this into various bullet points takes up lots of space which could quite easily be construed as an intentional method to short change the very point of doing this in the first place – for shame David.

2.     I’ve finally figured out why my bathroom smells like my old mouse cages that I kept mice in as a kid, which I always felt like was both the perfect thing to be kept in a mouse cage, and simultaneously was the best place to keep the mice.

3.     This last point is reminding me of just how smart I was as a teenager who kept mice as a pet – go me! I’m not one of those idiots who kept their mice in aquariums, their fish in atriums, and their birds delivering notes to the front bumper of cars, and ultimately being squished in the road so hard they just become a beaked part of it. 

4.     Remembering where I kept my mice is bringing up nostalgia which is an awesome and underutilized emotion, I mean it hardly even gets a look in during most half time pep-talks by coaches in charge of pee-wee lacrosse, and yet who among us doesn’t spend their lives without rolling around in our head three of four classic memories of epic lacrosse battles, which would be awesome fodder for half time speeches, and yet we all ignore them, why? Are we scared? Are we too sidetracked from hearing that gas leaks have developed the ability to read? Are we saving them up for a fun evening of playing the game spotlight on the grounds of a medieval era chateau? Who knows.

5.     Regardless is a weird word, and even weirder when you try and sneak it into a sentence where it really never should fit.

6.     Such as – the strong-armed helicopter pilot who has been accused of regardless the shopping trolley!

7.     Oh wait, I never told you the reason my bathroom smells like my old mouse cage, because my bath has three sweaty t-shirts in there from gym trips at least several days ago.

8.     Lists are fun places to lie about how long they were promised to be, I think that’s the definition of a win-win.

9.     Well I guess a win-win could also be defined by a situation such as a shark biting your arm off, which is like ‘cool, I always wanted to learn to play darts with my non-dominate hand’ and  ‘wow, I think I just spotted a shark!’

So I think what I have learned here is obvious, today was the best day of my life because I didn’t get around to doing this until really late because I was procrastinating on writing up about why today was the best day of life, which is an awesome excuse I previously didn’t have for staying up too late to write about the best day of my life. And anytime you figure out a new awesome, flawless and endlessly useful excuse for stuff, how could it not be considered the best day of your life, because it’s proof that we’re evolving, and if we are evolving then we still have a decent chance that humans can stay a in front of those evil alien shoulder blades.

Ps. Let me guess I bet your famous or notorious person from above was the same as mine? Let’s say them out loud at the same time, on the count of three.

1…

2…

3…

Kevin Costner!!!

Awesome, we were all the same, weren’t we? Yep we all know the truth of, he’s responsible for the dead birds you see on roads all over the world, just because he’s never figured out what his mouse cage is for.

Pps. When playing darts it’s a good idea to have the dart penetrate the board in the zones with lots of regardless triple regardless minge.  

The best day of my life – two

Hello everybody, boys n girls, boys n the hood, boys who like girls being boys, men, boys who care enough about ladies to call them women, writers who are suddenly worried that they are treading a dangerous line towards some form of misogyny, something lots of people are called these days,  misogynists that is, even though there is probably far less misogyny these days, than certainty there was in perhaps say the 1020s until the 2000s or so? Oh fuck, I am probably digging a hole here, and not a fun hole, like a hole in the ground that may or may not have gold in it, or a hole in the head which allows you to say ‘this is worse than what you’ve got going on’, which, if you ask me, is an awesome thing to be able to say. ‘I’ve got lots on at work today’ someone may say, and then you get to point at your head and say ‘this is worse than what you’ve got going on’. And you automatically win the argument, an argument that wouldn’t have existed if you could have stopped being so damn selfish and just commiserated with the person dealing with a lot on at work for Christ’s sake!!!!

The point is, today was the best day of my life. Why? For lots of reasons, but mostly, because that’s what I have decided to say, and think, and feel, every night before I go to bed. You don’t’ know, it might make a difference in my life, it could add some more positivity, a few less nightmares, and think about this - I woke up this morning feeling shit, and full of doubt, and hate for my life, and everything I ever have to do ever again, and everything I have ever done before that moment, which is how I feel every morning when I wake up. But I don’t feel that way right now, right now I am on top of the world, in both an emotional and physical sense, and seriously, unless you live in a hole in the ground you are always physically on top of the world, so let’s just calm the fuck down with that saying alright.

So this is just a free form, stream of consciousness writing exercise I have decided to do. I did one yesterday but I didn’t post it because it didn’t feel well enough written, or polished, or to make any fucking real sense, because I did it exactly the way I intended it.

I’m getting off point. And I have barely even mentioned my day, and I have almost already written as much as I intended to write, and it’s nearly 3am and I promised myself I would go to bed by 2am. So I wont get into too much of the nitty gritty of my day, because that’s not the point.

Speaking of points, here are some items in point form:

-       I got out of the house for lunch, which was a surprise.
-       I got back into the house and back to the many, many work related things I need to be working on earlier than expected, which was a surprise.
-       I actually got a few important jobs done, which was a surprise.
-       I didn’t get startled by all the surprises I surprised myself with, which was a surprise.
-       I drank chocolate milk tonight, which was delicious.
-       I made some music tonight, which was a surprise.

The lesson is surprisingly, that based on this study six out of every seven things I did today were surprising, yet the chocolate milk was the most delicious chocolate and milk based product I consumed at any point. There is a lesson in there somewhere, probably about something awesome, like win every argument achieving brilliant hole in the head, I hope so at least, cause if I had one of those I’d be on top of the world! 

                                                              A weird sports bar 

I met a bird

I had a truly intensely amazing experience today. Yes, I met a bird, and we had an oh so wonderful chat.

I mean we just had so much in common. Of course, sure, like with many conversations that chronicle the journey of current strangers along the safe passage to new friends, we had to tangle our way through sections of small talk and mindless busy discourse, but after a while similarities in our stories began to appear, and we found some amazingly coincidental, yet profound common ground. Like just a couple of examples included exciting things such as the fact that it turned out that we both chose air as our preferred source of oxygen, and we both had made homes in a tiny little location known as the planet earth, and we both could never, ever resist the temptation of a bag of French Fries from the garbage, no matter how moldy they’ve become.

Yep, it became clear that we basically were the same person, or ‘the same bird’ as he retorted, and we both laughed and laughed, the ability to unleash laughter being another thing we had in common. 

Oh sure, there were also some tiny minor differences, like I have skin and he has feathers, but then again both of those options are merely a different example of an identical thing – a membrane like casing focused primarily on evading organ spillage. I mean neither one of us, at any given time, has anything worse than a very minor level of organ leakage. And, ok sure, he mostly flies to get places and I mostly walk, but then again sometimes he walks, and I have been known to occasionally take a majestic leap over a muddy puddle. And yeah, I mostly eat spaghetti, where as he mostly eats puked up worm innards, but I am quite sure I have eaten many a stray worm mixed into my spaghetti, I mean that is what Italian food is most famous for, and he did recount a hilarious anecdote about a time he nearly chocked to death in a fancy restaurant after what he thought was a delicious worm, turned out to be instead a delicate strand of slender fettuccine, ha ha, they had to give him ‘the bird Heimlich-maneuver’, which if I was going to paint a picture of would look almost like using a bird as a stuffed turkey being fed to an Ostrich, ha ha, and all because he accidently ate something thinking it was something else, I literally can’t imagine something like that happen to me.

But yeah, ok, we had a few differences too. He believes when looking at politics you should have an open mind and try and understand the arguments on both sides, where as I believe in trying to understand the arguments on both sides of politics open-mindedly. He believes that where there is smoke there probably is fire, but not to spray the water until you feel the heat, where as I have always advocated restraining your water spraying trigger finger until you’ve confirmed that the smoke you are seeing is indeed coming from the flames you are looking at. Oh and plus his beak is way pointier than mine.

We departed soon after we figured out that last one, and so I don’t know if a long lasting friendship will last in friendship forever or not, but I can promise you, if you are reading this right now new bird friend, the next time I am eating some moldy fries out of a garbage can, you can totally have one.  Oh and by the way, I never did get your name, I hope it’s not something weird; I don’t make friends with weirdoes sorry.

Someone had to say it

Fun medical facts

It’s recently been discovered by the medical community that when you have a song stuck in your head, and it’s an awesome song, and yet for some reason the song you have stuck in your head is not the awesome original but instead the shitty cover version, this is merely your brains way of saying 'that’s what you get for the time you filled me up with images of 'horses having sex because you thought it would be funny to ambush your friend with it, even though it meant you had to watch it yourself too!’

The lesson, obviously, is that living with skinny ankles is tough. As a skinnied ankler I've suffered all manner of horror, including, but not limited to, several minor ankle injuries, several times having someone say 'I never noticed how skinny your ankles were before' and several times realizing that the term 'cankles' while cruel and undesirable, will probably never be applied to me. That's SEVERAL severals damn it - and I'm not even a hundred percent sure on what that ultimately means mathematically, and I HATE math.

But the horror does not end there, although I wish it did, but get this, I don't think about my skinny ankles all the time, yes it's true, there are at least several hours a day when things other than my ankles are on my mind, that means there are people out there right now who potentially have skinny ankles who are not currently thinking about it, and if they're not thinking about it then as far as they are concerned they may be blissfully ignorant of horrible skinny ankle responsible horror coming their way - like not knowing why no one is naming them cankles.

But fear not, for I have already pissed around setting this silly thing up for far too fucking long, or maybe it just feels that way because I'm in a pub alone and not drinking and about to watch this stupid fucking famous horse race that I have no interest in, just so, I don't know, I don't not watch for the sake of not watching so I can be all lamely rebellious by avoiding the thing that everyone else is doing, so I'm watching even though I don't care and don't want to watch to be rebellious? I think I may officially be a tool. The point is, if a horse breaks it's leg they shoot it - having skinny ankles is tough.

And now signs you may have skinny ankles:

- People sometimes ask if they can borrow your leg to pick meat out from between their teeth.
- Sometimes you wake up and find your ankles being chewed on by beavers. Or even worse, while you were sleeping, the beavers have taken one of your legs away and you have to go rescue it from a beaver dam which can be especially frustrating if you’re in a rush to get to a meeting, and you live in a country with no beavers, so you have to fly to like Canada, grab your legs, and then jump in rush hour traffic, and then have to explain why you’re a few minutes late to your meeting, and instead of feeling sorry for you everyone is just impressed with the beavers ability to get your leg off without waking you, and their ability to travel super long distances without access to any modern aircraft technology.

- You once broke your ankle in the bathroom from stepping off the bath mat onto the tiles.

- You want to become a pirate just because your legs seem harder to balance on than peg legs.

- Little kids in Africa send you money to feed your ankles.

- Pin the tail on the donkey is based on a time you tried to kick a donkey in the butt and got your foot stuck.

- The reason that there are wonky bar stools all over the world is because you’ve been cutting off little bits of chair leg to stick to your ankle in hope of not falling over so much.

- When you’re about to perform in a play and someone says ‘break a leg’ to you someone then always immediately pulls them aside and whispers frantically to them ‘don’t say that to him, have you seen his ankles!’

- Sometimes when you’re walking down the street and run into a flamingo you look into its eyes, and it into yours, and you both burst into tears, immediately understanding each others pain, and you share a deep and comforting hug, but then you accidently say out loud what you only meant to think in your head, the line ‘at least I’m not pink’ and then the flamingo bites back ‘shut up you fag’ and then you say ‘woah, woah, woah I know I am in the wrong here, but that’s not a good word anymore dude’ and then it’s like ‘I am all pink, I think I am allowed to say it’ and then you get into a big long argument/ debate on politically correctness and where the boundaries and lines currently are versus where they should be.

- Your ankles look skinny.

So there you go, you should now know definitively whether or not you have skinny ankles. I wish you luck. Meanwhile this silly horse race is over now and we did not see a horse fall down break its ankle and get shot in the head, and this kinda disappointed me, that would have been way more interesting than just a normal silly horse race. So, yeah, I’m someone who kinda wanted to see an animal hurt, who’s the tool now?

Update: it turns out one of the horses had a heart attack and died. Oh man, I was just being silly saying I wished one had been shot, just to mock a fucking stupid sport. I do not and never have desired pain or suffering on an animal, if they shot the trainers or the bookies on the other hand ....

The bunny equation

As a dedicated and extremely renown social philosopher and behavioral scientist I am privy to a lot of information, mostly information that I discover on my own, because few people are informed on the type of information I hope to have insights on. Over the course of my career I've been able to study and identify many different and unique human traits that few before me would have even imagined to be true, like consider this discovery I made - most people wouldn't enjoy having a giant bird eating spider trapped in their pantaloons. Seems obvious now, but before me no one had even considered bringing pantaloons into the equation, most scientists were too stuck on pants. 

Which brings me to my next epic discovery: 

It turns out that if you dedicate a full page of your personal diary per day to one by one discuss in detail the individual specific needs, desires and dreamiest fantasies of every hair on a bunnies tummy then, well I have three things to say about that:

1. Good for you - dedication is an awesome quality. 

2. Good for you - the tummy is awesome, most people who do this are cliche and stick to the boring and supersaturated ear hairs. 

3. How do you pick your order? 

Now I know what you're thinking - what about the bunnies needs? Well I have three things to say about that:  

1. Seriously that's you're thinking about? 

2. I mean why wouldn't the bunny enjoy this? 

3. Why worry about the bunny but not the pen ink? That comes from tree sap doesn't it? Or squid? Or blue tongue lizard tongue? Wait blue tree sap? That sounds awesome. 

I think the lesson is that if one in seventeen free towels handed out at the gym contained dangerous levels of soaked up battery acid then MORE people would go to gym. I base this on three key reasons. 

1. I mean sweet you've found a gym with free towels!! 

2. Lists in threes are awesome!

3. Awww, bunny. 

Time for me to depart, I've just had a brilliant and crazy idea for my bird eating spider study - brace yourselves - breeches!!!

My famous annual last minute Halloween costume advice is here!

Exciting news everyone, super exciting really, and no I don’t mean ‘super’ like superman, because this is super in that it’s super exciting in regard to this years Halloween! Something Superman has NOTHING to do with.  

If you don’t have your costume ready this year, then it’s not too late to spend your Halloween in what is sure to be deemed the hottest, sexiest, coolest, most original, best, most awesomenessous, hottest, and sexiest costume out there, something way better than some lame super hero costume, like Superman. That guy is a superloser if you ask me.  

Wait, if they are all ‘super’ heroes, and yet only one of them has the word ‘super’ in his name, shouldn’t he automatically be considered the definitive super hero? If I wanted to be the ultimate warrior, I’d simply rename myself ‘Ultimate Dave’ and the title would be mine. If I wanted to the most splendid yack trainer in all of the major Himalayan yack racing leagues, I’d just rename myself ‘Splendid Yack Dave’ and not a single member of the current yack training advisory board would question me for a minute. If I wanted to be King of Great Britain, I’d simply casually and covertly murder the current 7, 234, 932 people who are in front of me in the natural line of succession to the throne and it would be mine. Wait sorry, 7, 234, 931, I was just given notification that Clive Handler just passed away, apparently in suspicious circumstances, but I swear I had nothing to do with it. I wouldn’t write about it and then do it on the same day, I’m not an idiot, plus just above there I used the word ‘covertly’ which was a very clever use of language, so I am clearly too smart to make a mistake like that. Plus this very brilliantly and clearly written paragraph gave away a flawless plan on how to easily become the definitive leader in any chosen field you may choose, so boom, I rest my case, I did not murder Clive.

I’m getting off track. The point is, that if you want to have an awesome costume for this years Halloween, and you’ve left it to the last minute, then I have you covered. Right now, right here, I am giving you, my awesome readers, exclusive and brilliant advice on how to pull off what will surely be the best costume of any party, fair, parade, or vigilante mission you attend this year, and pull it off with such specific perfection that people will be so epically impressed that they’ll be gushing, and singing awesome praise by saying things like 'so yeah, um wow, you nailed it'.
That's right people - this year’s hottest costume IS.... ME!!! That's right you can go to your Halloween party dressed as David Tieck.
Here are some exclusive tips on how to be me right:

-       I wear the same pair of jeans everyday, not because I don’t own more than one pair, but because I can’t be fucked to take the things out of the pockets and put them in another pair of jean’s pockets.

-       I wear converse all-star chuck taylor shoes, unless I am too lazy to tie shoelaces, which is almost always, in which case I wear Asics tigers.

-       I have a permanently dark and wincingly bitter soul, but it's painted pink!

-       Please don't imitate me and yet change me, keep the slutiness in the chest, not the genitals please. 

-       I like silly hand gestures.  

-       I only ever cry from the left eye, make sure your tear marks reflect that. 

-       Have I ever licked a dead possum as an adult? Yes I have. Just saying.

-       I hold my Coke Zero can in my RIGHT hand, my Pepsi max in the LEFT, and for some reason always have three drops of urine on my underpants.

-       I like terms such as 'Mangrove smiley face', 'bubble bath reprobates' and 'cunt', But I don’t like to offend people, so I only use them haphazardly, with caution, and when the timing feels right, well that’s a lie, I’m only actually careful with 'bubble bath reprobates'. 

-       If there is one thing I love it is skipping stones on lakes - but I don't love just one thing, I'm not a psychopath, mix it up. 

-       I have lots of psychopathic thoughts, make sure you do too - be creative, no one likes a psychopath who is all cliché.

-       I have insomnia eyes, if you're not willing to skip sleep for the accurate look then being punched in the eyes can do the job, as can spending three hours in a sauna making elephant noises.

-       I only ever tan my back - I don't want to prematurely age my face, I'm not an idiot.

-       I'm covered in bruises from walking into things idiotically. 

-       I desperately NEED to go to own a digital watch again one day, you MUST too.

-       Not enough to like go buy one though of course, I am too lazy to tie shoelaces for Christ sake, don't embarrass me by making me look all.... Worky

-       I never, ever repeat myself, ever.

-       Did you think I was going to follow that by repeating myself for a cheap laugh? Shame on you, you disgust me.

-       I often have snot in hair. 

That's about it! Have a great Halloween as me! Don't embarrass me please!

Oh oh, 

-       I am very easily embarrassed oh and 

-       I have a permanently dark and wincingly bitter soul, but it's painted pink!

-       Yep I did it, you filthy bubble bath reprobates! Ha ha, I repeated myself even though I said I never do, ever, and I did it just for a cheap laugh! I am a MANIAC!!!!!! 

Oh oh, I’m also:

-       Clearly deservingly embarrassed.

-       Too lazy to care. 

-       Hoping someone buy that watch for me please? I really want one.