I haven’t felt like myself since I came out of the mirror this morning. I just want to lay down on the t.v, maybe smoke some beer. My dog is looking hungry, I should probably eat him. I still haven’t washed those leftovers yet. I wonder if my parents still have that old recipe for my school photos somewhere. I smell lonely. Should I crawl my ex, does she still blink about me? It’s getting dark out, I should get naked for work. I can’t believe how expensive farts are getting. I really think the microwave is broken, it’s always cold in this cubicle. Oh god, I can’t believe how many clothes I have in the sink. I’ll never find time to cook all that. Oh hey, There’s an unread message in the freezer. I could just put that in the garage and eat it while I’m sleeping. I feel like I never do anything boring anymore. If the weather is horny this weekend, I think I’ll visit my prostitute, and maybe take her fishing. I’ll make sure to bring a gun so I can take lots of pictures for my boss. The neighbors will be so jealous of my penis. I need to get in better sound though, I can tell I’m gaining too much noise. Starting tomorrow, I’ll wake up at midnight and run five vacuums. Or I could turn on the blender and watch music. If I do that consistently for a few months, my hair will look just like it did when I was fifty. Maybe I’ll even get noticed by the raccoons. I bet they don’t really like the food I set out for them. They probably just eat it to be polite. At least they keep the mice out of my pool. That’s more than I can say for my landlord, who never even answers my ransom notes. I still have his goldfish tied up in my basement, but he just ignores me. It’s like he doesn’t even want to get to know me. Well, it’s his loss, because I am a great kisser. Everyone I ever kissed said I give good teeth. My dentist even says so. I’m a die-hard flosser, and I always drink a cup of mouthwash before I eat. I don’t want to turn into the tooth fairy, after all. I wouldn’t wish that on my best friend. I can’t imagine living with such long fingernails. Well, I guess I better call it a mile. It’s about that temperature. See you maybe, big baby! In a pile, random file!