Who the hell are you?

...

Oh... right.

--
<whoring>
Do you like puns... homosexuality? Sure, we all do. But if you haven't read Across A Crowded Room, you haven't experienced p... homosexuality. Read today.
</whoring>

Sigh.

your art sucks. give up.

--
I heard once that most sharks, if they stop swimming, they stop breathing, sink to the floor of the ocean, and die. Such goes for us if we stop searching for truth.

You've been DOUBLE FISTED!!!!! You choose where! Share the love and PASS THIS ON!!!! \\\/// LIVE LONG AND PROSPER!!! WITH THE FIST!

Started by ~pnezzy
Continued by *mutters
Continued by ~spicyfetus

--
shit?

So after I got done on Saturday (which was an hour later than I had planned) I went out with some friends, not the usual friends, but rather intelligent individuals, the sort you could discuss Pinter AND Peruvian Wine with in the same session. Well, we ate also, which was rather unusual for me, given the current level of my self-conscious attitude towards un-choreographed mandible maneuvers in public, however I took it as a sign of how comfortable I felt with them and devoured my repast with vigor. We got around to discussing suicides and one chap mentioned that their brother, while in France, had 'done away' with himself in a rather exhibitionistic style. I simply replied that people who threw themselves off bridges in the middle of Paris were simply in seine.
As the evening progressed I realized that you were not there. It was quite a shock as I distinctly remember feeling as if you were. It was the kind of feeling one gets when you 'sense' in your sleep that you are resting on your favorite cushion or pillow only to wake up and find that the dog crawled into your bed in the night and you have your face snuggled cozily up his butt. Once I was over the discomfort of your absence I had another drink. It was then that he walked in. The midget. We got to talking and he confided many things in me, the type of things you can tell a stranger without fear. During the course of our congress I learned that he had held a position as a fortune teller in a circus but had been convicted of fraud and sentenced to five hard years. When he said that this was only two years ago I deftly asked if he had gained parole, at which he shifted with unease and, looking about the room, confessed that he had escaped in the back of a laundry truck from the penitentiary. I concluded thus that this meant that he was now a small medium at large.
Sunday began with a phone call, a friend called and spoke of those beautiful people who are always doing delicious things in dark rooms with high ceilings while the rest of us sleep our boring sleep. I felt neglected by this fact and wondered what I had done to deserve this ignorance from such a desirable demographic and as I mused I remembered that I had received an email from someone who spoke of a global shift in communications and that someone famous was about to be exposed for something totally unsurprising. Needless to say I felt better. And the celebrity? Well, I'm sure you read all about it in the papers, an affair, which, he claimed, he indulged in just to break the monogamy.
My sister, the one who gives the impression of being permanently pregnant, will visit me this week. Her visit is being curtailed, thank God, for the sake of a scheduled induction of labor on Thursday afternoon. Apparently her psychic has told her it is a fortuitous day for the child to be birthed during. I am not so sure. She is most looking forward to using her husband's credit cards in a procedure she convincingly refers to as 'retail therapy'. With all the development here in our little part of the world she is most excited to visit the monstrous concrete tomb which is in fact a windowless collection of shops and stores and places I grudgingly allude to as 'eating establishments' although I will be damned if I concede that they provide any kind of nourishment. However she is most excited to divest the positive margin on her spouse's income-to-debt ratio in such emporiums with monikers of 'Baby Gap' which invariably makes me think either of that time between myself and my youngest sibling who is 14 years my junior, or some form of cattle-grid devised to prevent the advancement of push-chairs into establishments designated as 'not suitable for young children'. I greeted her jubilant plans for "our" visit to the theme-park that has no attractions but all the merchandising with my usual apathy, to which she inquired as to why.

"My dear," I told her, "when you've seen one shopping center, you've seen a mall."

--
here comes the mirrorman | says he's a people fan.

damn, you actually posted art

now i'll have to devwatch you so i can see all this shit

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doobi wan kenobi