Tote, the Magical Talking Waffle Batter

We should have a contest wherein we consume the contents of lava lamps. My new year's resolution is 1280x720p. Right, she's a manifestation of the Times New Roman font, so let's hijack a trolley and ride all the way to the hospital, where we can listen to people using respirators to breathe -- that should fix your stupid. I remember the last time I went to the hospital to steal two-day-old macaroni, I met this guy whose large nose actually frightens children, even when there aren't any children around. I have strong evidence that suggests he resides beneath your sofa. In fact, there's an entire country living under your sofa. We call it Brenda. It's part of the U.N. and has the fourth largest army in the world. Don't try to argue; you'll just end up putting all your hand lotions in a blender.

OLDIES ON 97.8, THE ARTHRITIS

I just made friends with a polyp! No, you'll have to leave the internet in the cupboard where you found it, or else the sun will eat us both. Yesterday, I blinked and caused a rock-slide, because the rocks lied. They tried to tell me that Michael Jackson didn't try to sue himself, but we all know the real story. Of course, we only know it because in the seventeenth dimension, cats organize themselves into crime mafias that take over the galactic bunny blockade. Shark Infested Waters would be a terrible name for a child.

IF YOU COULD CHOOSE BETWEEN GOING BALD AND GOING SUPER BALD, WHICH WOULD YOU CHOOSE

I keep a list of profitable business idea in my wallet. Sodium cubes (meant as replacements for ice cubes), bottled corn bread, Clorox Bleach Drink for kids, the Pacific Ocean, Tote the Magical Talking Waffle Batter, and blocks of cheese carved in the shape of Hillary Clinton's head. I also intend to copyright the alphabet. Most of my investors don't exist because apparently my ideas "won't sell anywhere ever get out of my house," but I'm telling you, my ideas would make millions. Millions. Everyone will love them because there's nothing to not love about these ideas, in my opinions. Both of them. I have two opinions. They are both exactly the same.

Today I am going to show you how to prepare a mango. Step one, see how many chicken nuggets will fit in the blender. Step two, remove chicken nuggets. Step three, start blender. Step four, scream and throw the blender through the nearest window. Step five, get sued by the jogger you just knocked unconscious with a blender. Congratulations. You have successfully prepared a mango for battle.


There is a thin line between word and world...

Griffin wrote so much of this post it's not even. It's odd. It's really odd. I could sit here and explain my life to you, but there are borts in the hallway, and bacon is about as good as bacon does. Ick the panorama. Ick. Don't give me that look.

Charcoal Man, the superhero who invented the smolder. His superpower is crawling into people's grills and bursting into flame. The only reason we don't fire him is because if we do, he'll stay on fire for like a really long time, and well, frankly, Frank. Stop calling me. Also, Bug Bug's only friend is Roger, whose profile picture is a duck. I cannot accept this piece of drywall. Just put it back where you found it. Bring all your pant.

I entered an establishment recently, and within the establishment was a bathroom, which I entered as well, because I was looking for the vending machine. And when I looked to my right, I saw this man on the other side of the counter, looking directly at me. He was dressed exactly like me! This was a bit awkward, so we simply stared at one another for a while, and I waited for him to just leave, but he didn't. He stood there, staring at me. It occurred to me that I'd seen this man before, in other bathrooms, and each of those times, he was also dressed exactly like me. I can only conclude he's stalking me. He even tried to follow me when I tried to exit the room! Eventually I had no choice but to throw a roll of toilet paper at him. It bounced off of some invisible force field, and I screamed "STOP FOLLOWING ME" and bolted from the room, crashing through the nearest window and directly into a passing car, where I proceeded to emit obnoxious whale noises until the driver let me out on the overpass. It wouldn't have killed her to slow down, though.

Operation: Swimming Noodle Bathroom Attack is a go. O long Johnson. O Don Piano. Why I eyes ya. Understand, you're standing under the upside down dirt-sky. Whenever I'm home alone, I like to contemplate contemporary plates, and maybe put my hand in a pot of coffee to wake me up in the morning. Sometimes my arm sends me messages about called itch.

What the crap. Where did my sandwich go. I ate it. And now it's gone. It was here just a second ago.

Okay okay look, look okay, here, now, okay look: ...Don't come in I'm naked.

I have two split personalities that think that they are each other.