Pavlovlovlavopping with Gumbo and Sebastian's a Lady

I just want to throw your sister into a pile of gravy. Oh no, everyone! We are all fat! You know what we should do is we should do something about our fatness. Fatness rhymes with Katniss, so clearly she is to blame! EVERYONE! TO THE HUNGER GAMES! And may the odds be even in your favor. You probably misread that last sentence. Odds can't be even.

I am apparently not duct tape.

One day, I will become disgustingly rich. On that day, I am going to buy a personal person named Sebastian, and she is going to make Dutch hot chocolate for me every morning, and she will fluff my pillows every afternoon after sending a letter to the President, telling him how amazing I am, and she will fly, just like Colonel Sanders. I will purchase a large cheese and I will name it Harold, and I will train Harold to be a ninja. A ninja who mugs other rich people and puts their credit cards in my wallet. I will have the state of Florida towed, and I will put a parking boot on Canada. I'll buy the internet from Al Gore. NO WAIT! I'll buy Al Gore. And he will be my footrest. NO WAIT!!! I'll buy every footrest. Then make a statue of Al Gore with them, then dump it in the ocean. And then, I will buy the world's largest collection of explosive babies, and I will throw them at all of my dinner guests. I will pay for a movie ticket but spend the entire two hours hiding inside the popcorn machine, screaming angrily as all the movie-goers walk by. I will hire 10,000 cheerleaders to assemble the largest human pyramid ever. I will then collect all of their phone numbers. I will assemble the biggest flash mob ever and interrupt the presidential debates. I will start my own late night talk show that will have no people. Just a turtle in a chair. That will go on for an hour. I suspect TBS could run it. And finally, I will stick my head in a pot of flour...And that is the story of how I lost all of my money.

TARZAN! LORD OF THE DRAPES!

I was talking to a friend the other day on Facebook.

Friend: I found sunglasses today. Guess what I did.
Flirp: You ate some gumbo?
Friend: No. Close. But no.
Flirp: You watched someone else eat gumbo?
Friend: I said, "Looks like I'm about to eat..." That's when I put on the glasses and said, "...dinner." Then, someone behind me screamed, "YYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"
Flirp: ......Did you have gumbo for dinner?

I ate Kevin Bacon's surname. That's when I got a letter on the phone and answered it in the voice of Judd Nelson in Breakfast Club. It was my nanny from third grade, except now she's a witch who spends all her free time literally driving cars into the sunset. Sometimes I wish I could just stuff the bank in my pocket and walk away nonchalantly. Or maybe, instead of walking, I could, like, roll away... I can do a plie! Just like Anna Pavlovlovlavop. We call it "Pavlovlovlavopping" back home, in Coca-Cola. Speaking of witch, she turned me into a newt! I just downloaded an entire airplane. It's on my iPod, but I plan on upgrading to an iPood; it's got a whole extra O! The cows went to the opera and released the winds of destruction. There was so much gas and so little space. The band has to velcro socks to their feet, because they keep shooting people with candles.

 

Ah, suicide. That hits the spot.

Let's play wheel of fortune, except instead of money, you win piles of buttered llamas. I love synonym. It's my favorite flavor. I went to sleep last night, but I was confused about it. Pacman wanted to eat a ghost, but I traveled up through the air, hit a dragonfly, and became a biological hazard. I am weaving a tapestry out of hamburgers, because we're gonna have a medicine party. Let's kidnap somebody. Once upon a time, I the. I then varnished the princess' fingernails and shoveled some snow out of the garbage disposal.

It was supposed to be closed-casket, but I threw a ham into the coffin.

My Panini

Wonderful wonderful, polar bears careening into my car. Windshield wiper fluid is not to be sprayed into my eyes, because I have yet to install cornea wipers. One thing is for sure: I can master judo with only a bar of soap. My philosophy professor always wants to get on his soap box, but I would much rather he get in it. And stay there for two, three centuries. I don't mean to judge, but if you let that crippled man get a hold of that fire extinguisher, there will be violence. It's like he becomes the Hulk, only without legs. Polar bears are still vicious creatures, and they get blood everywhere. They are falling from the sky because global warming.

I walked down the stairs only to discover the upper half of a nurse protruding from the wall. She waved excitedly, and I just kept walking. I swear, sometimes my house gets really weird at night. For instance, Mr. Tubs-in-pants, who likes performing rain-dances in other people's yards, now lives in my attic. He doesn't dance for rain anymore. Now he just dances for celery. Interestingly enough, the celery dance is more effective than the rain dance.

You haven't experienced life until you've painted an entire sardine lying in the grass.

I once had a friend who predicted his own death. He didn't drown or catch fire or suffocate or have a heart attack or watch High School Musical 2. Instead, on his daily morning walk around Tokyo, he got shot by a gunslinging clown riding a unicycle. I will never forget the day he said, "Mog mog, iggle pip HA!"

My hearing is so good, I can actually pick up sounds of golfballs being eaten by fish, miles and miles away. That's got nothing to do with the paranoid architect. He built an entire security system made out of corn. And when I say, "made out of corn," I am not referring to the security system; I mean the architect was literally made out of corn. Metaphorically, he was made out of dance. You better hope I don't turn into a pickpocket. I'll put an anchor in your wallet and you'll never be able to run away. Doctors watch you while you sleep, and I'll be the first to say that they are made of two halves.

I like throwing hot dogs at Frank. All the while, I yell, "Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!" And he says, "Oh my heart!" and dies. Classic. I met a guy named G-Bob. I met him today. On the ceiling. Apparently G-Bob is a ninja. He has a psychiatrist who is also a squid. Part time. He drives two cars, at the same time. One is red, the other is fat. Together, they are....UGLY!!! Worst superhero name ever.

Let's set people on fire. For charity.

When G-Bob steps into an elevator, he doesn't turn around. Also, he has a habit of attending fancy dinners just so he can put things in the trash. Sometimes that includes people. His bed is also a generator, and it shoots fountains of water into the sky, which G-Bob owns. He sits in tractors and waits for time to pass. Then, when time has passed, he gets up and does "the worm," all the way to the White House. He then rows through the garden in a canoe, then tips the canoe upside-down so that he can hide under it. After three minutes and sixty-one seconds, he bursts from the canoe, riding a jet ski, which crashes into the White House's public restroom and explodes. G-Bob is not a woman, but he wears pumps because they flatter his cousin's waistline when he does, and G-Bob is a wonderful person who hates polar bears.

Muslims ate my panini.

Inconvenience Stores, the Titanic, and Beyond

Somebody's wearing a diaper in your attic. He wants to give you a twig he found under the forest. But he's keeping the other one for himself. If you're not careful, he will drop a housepet into your freezer when you are asleep in bed. And then he will stare at you for a really long time before sprinting through the nearest wall. You will find him in Canada, plucking feathers from an unhappy chicken.

Is it wrong to eat a child's bib?

So, last month, I was just walking on the floor using only my ears, when suddenly a luxury sedan crashes through the roof and bright-lights me. I tripped and fell down the stairs, only to be stopped dead in my tracks by a banana. I would have found that ironic, but there were no irons anywhere. Also I injured my arm. Somewhere in the world, an opera singer was giving birth to what I can only assume is now a baby human and not a velociraptor. Anyway, I was revived by a dwarf wearing a gas mask who then proceeded to carry a single pant to the hospital. I figured it was high time I ate a AAA battery. I instead ingested a child's handheld video game; it tasted like hard drive. That's when I became a biological hazard. I went to the hospital, walked up to the lady at the counter, and said, "My ankle can breathe on you." So she gave me a Pokémon card and began to krump silently. I deposited a crappie into the file cabinet and was on my way, to the Titanic. And beyond. A few weeks later I finally got treatment for my injured arm. It was done by a surgeon, whose name was Butch R. Bloodworth. In retrospect, I should have been concerned. But since I didn't realize anything strange until yesterday, I just now gave my surgeon a birthday present. It was a scorpion.

I'm thinking of opening a chain of inconvenience stores. Open 24 hours a year and you can only pay with nickels. Everything is on a shelf that is out of reach, the clerk is almost always on a coffee break, and all that I sell are balloons and whipped cream. We'll make sure to have everything you're not looking for and nothing you are. The restrooms are always out of order, and the "Caution: Wet Floor" signs are always in front of the drink fountain, which dispenses only carbonated water. And the clerk only speaks conversational Polish. We can call it Mall-Wart.

Three days from now, my cousin was deaf, so he didn't hear the bear coming. His last words were, "Trust in nature. She will reward you with baked goods." Everything else he said was really just a collection of nasal sounds and politics. I am the shrimp winner. I just threw a pastry in the wishing well and was promptly hit by an eighteen-wheeler bearing dancing children with tiaras and antipsychotics.

CLANK goes the madame's head, and BOOM go the teleprompters. "TICKLE THAT FAT MAN!" they all shouted. And there was much rejoicing. We have chemistry labs, we have biology labs, and we have math labs. Not to be confused with meth labs. I started six riots with only a pudding, and you can't handle the job of "dinosaur supervisor"? You had one job, Frank. One job. Please tell me you brought a match, because duck salad. I ran through the school hallways with a cactus in my wheelbarrow, and everyone flew.

You can spank anyone with a butt, but I wouldn't recommend it.

Catholic Ninja Sandwich

Everyone burps, and I want to stick your finger in a typewriter. So yesterday, I went sky diving, except backwards. Instead of jumping out of a plane, I jumped into the plane. And I had to stuff my parachute into my backpack on the way up. But now I am afraid of heights because WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE OF CANCER. Cancer the Crab. He lives in the sky and pinches people who fly. That is why I am afraid of heights. . . I don't want to be pinched by a constellation.

Did you hear about the bread crisis? I ran out of spit.

Most people think mermaids are all like Ariel, from The Little Mermaid. Like they're all like, "Falala, I want dinglehoppers part of your world I can't breathe and feet! End scene," but they're not. I swear, the next time I see a mermaid impersonator on the street or in my closet, trying to act like they can't breathe, I'm just gonna grab their face with a plunger and escort them to a local public restroom. I think we should all throw mermaids in water basins. Why? Because mermaids are kill you. They pass out danger like my roommates pass gas. Also they are notorious for stealing policemen from donuts and selling the sun on the black market. They tried to sell the pope once, in exchange for a golden egg, but the pope was all like, "Oh no you di'in't!" He went all Catholic-ninja on all they faces, and then, as he backed out the door, their shoes in one hand, a stray orphan in the other, he snapped his fingers and was all like, "Oh, you wanna go there? Girlfriend? You best be steppin' back, girl! Shazzam!" And then a comet came down and killed everybody.

The moral of this story is pants. There was a guy on the sidewalk, and I stepped on him because he had a cheeseburger and I wanted it. But once I had it, I threw it in the dumpster and stole his shoe. That's how the tiger got its stripes. That's also why leopards and leotards don't mix.

The mashed potatoes are just too lumpy. You gotta get up in there. Get up after the lumps. Lumps of potato.

The government has decided to start an observation tax. You have to pay money to pay attention. Calculators will eat your flesh if you don't double-tap, because everyone knows that all electronics are really the zombie invasion from Mars. . . Woah. . . Zombie aliens. I'm offering you a laser umbrella; how you can not accept? If you read a book, they will send torpedoes after you -- it's not my fault she puts shamrocks in your birthday cake. This is your life. You have to dance.

In my wallet, I carry the sea. I also gossip about beans, because if I don't, pictures of mountains will shoot lightning at things. For instance, bears, which do not ride mopeds. If a sand-shark weighs as much as a duck, is it a sand-witch? And if there are several suchlike sharks shoved between two pieces of wheat bread, does that make them sand-witch sandwiches? And which sandwitch sandwich would be capable of sanding a witch? That made too much sense. Somebody kiss me. Balcony appetite!

Three things are radioactive: scissors, combs, and men. That's why doctors hand out tiny families at the gas station every Thursday. But it's Tuesday right now. It will be Wednesday in like two minutes as of the word "Wednesday." By the way, a thing happened earlier today to meeeeee. I wanted to wash my hands in the bathroom. I turned on the faucet, and a man in a canoe came out and paddled into the toilet. I heard a flush and just like that, my new friend was gone. Funny how people enter into our lives so briefly like that. Just like that. Via indoor plumbing. The coffee panther traveled to the soup capital of the world and died a horrible death, but it's okay -- he kept his receipt.

Some people squat violently and then explode.

How to Fail At Spring

APRIL FOOLS I BLEW UP YOUR HOUSE!!! I tricked you -- it's not April Fools. APRIL FOOLS! And now that that's out of the way, I have decided to inform you that some of you fail at spring. To prevent further tragedies, I will wiggle my toes and then fall out of my chair. And in case you are wondering, these are the ways to fail at spring: Pretending it's winter. Being both fat and environmentally conscious. Pumping furniture into people's homes. Offending babies. Eating flowers. Kissing small clumps of moss. Trying to pet a moose. Starting the wave during Mass. Saying "home skizzle" if you are me. Setting fire to fancy bicycles, unless you then ride those bicycles. All of them. And finally, the most surefire way to fail at spring is to bounce around the room wildly and then inhale the entire President of the United States. I want to crump. But I don't want to push it. A teacher a day keeps the apple away. Sit on tepid eggnogs and hope for the toast. My tumbling senator turns around eight times before finding his parents. 12/21/12. That is the Day of Lots of Drunk People And/Or People Who Buy Lots of Supplies Because Obviously Bottled Water and Canned Green Beans Will Protect You If the World Blows Up. Or D.L.D.P.A.O.P.W.B.L.S.B.O.B.W.C.G.B.W.P.Y.I.W.B.U. for short. I keep radar in my pants in case I have to save a grilled cheese sandwich from the curb. Oh what a wonderful bean cake! I was driving along the sidewalk when suddenly there was oxygen. My insurance said no. I distinctly remember doing the worm. The pedestrian had no idea which direction to run, so I ran over him. I saw a slow-moving, sad faced old gentleman, as he bounced off the hood of my car. I was thrown from the car as it left the road. I was later found in a ditch by some stray cows. This tilapia smells like panty hose. . . panty HOSE! So anyway, I thought you all might like to know what I did yesterday. First, I went to the sidewalk to visit my friend who tickles the stratosphere with his eyelashes when he walks down the road. His name is Life, and he likes to hand lemons to people who are walking by with their feet. I also have a cousin, whose name actually is Lemons. He was an orphan until he got born. Life kidnapped Lemons in order to give someone Lemons the Human and see what would happen. They ran away and tackled my grandmother. That's why my cousin always says "THE DESERVING UNIVERSAL THEATER IS VERY GREEN WITH THE FLAVOR OF ONION PATCH" Bugs bugs bugs make my nose burp! I am a shrubbery.