the end of the world that is. first...i woke up. and i turned on the radio in the bathroom like i do every morning as i want to kill myself just to avoid moving from my comfy bed. on my way to the bathroom i make sure i kick a couple garden midgets for good luck and wonder again why i think a ficus might be wiser than a pot plant.
but i digress...the radio was dead air. damn you, Matt Segal. then Billy's cackling scared me and i almost puked by accident (for once) with the toothbrush. i'm trying to remember where this story was going, but the Indian kid came by last night. i paid him in portion with a scratch ticket. which was apparently only valid in New Hampshire. only me, i thought...wait. now we've gone third person. let's try to find our feet again.
first, the radio. now...i can't get on perezhilton. because deep down, aren't we all angry fat gay kids? this upsets me though a lot more when i realize all my dirty gossip shit is down. i'm going to slip back into my vertical coma now. activate CLONE POWER!
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