
"Terror sale on isle 4! Buy the 4 gallon Terror tub and get the spray attachment for spreading Terror evenly."

Stuff I found this week:
Light Saber - The New Household Tool
This is the closest you can come to being a superhero
Mario Bro's Cake





I can't think of anything funny. I'm not sure why. Maybe I'll just talk about the voices in my head. People will sometimes ask me where I come up with my strange ideas and I have to admit, I don't. The voices in my head do.
What is it about tension that makes people bite their nails? I don't understand. It's not like it accomplishes anything at all, besides more discomfort. Freud has some theory on this, but personally I don't care. I'm sure anything Freud had to say would make me feel even worse about myself than any amount of nail biting would. 


Here we are, yet again, on the cusp of more knowledge that I'm sure I'm the only one sharing with you today. It has to do with something that has been bouncing around in my head for a number of years. At this point a fair amount of my readers, the ones who have been with me for a while, just signed off. For you poor unfortunate souls who remain, let me explain. 
Today is it, my last day. Today I have torn pants, a strong back, a happy life and a carefree outlook on life. Tomorrow I will awake and put on my big boy pants, pop an Advil or two and begin the bitter decline of life. It's over, times up. Tomorrow I'm turning 30!

Th stench of death lingers in the air. Hanging over my house like a dark shroud, striking down randomly and without any warning. It siphons off joy and prohibits any lengthy relationship from forming. I thought after the last time it ripped life from it's conquest I would be free of it for a while. It seems that was too much to hope for and now my heart is saddened once more.