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.