Argyle

Argyle is sexy. Argyle and plaid is a bit weird, but in the right colors, it is also sexy. Mix it with a solid, but not a floral, and it can be even sexier. Why am I saying this? 'Cuz I can. I'm not wearing this combination. Or am I? I could be. Most readers don't see me in person much (I could list known readers who haven't subscribed, but that's up to them to reveal themselves) and only one reader who doesn't see me in person occasionally sees me on MSN. I'd give that out to others on here, but I had to make a whole new account 'cuz of all the viagra ads. What am I going to do with viagra? I don't know anyone who needs it, either, except that crazy old man who flirts with me down the street. What if he reads this? Are you reading this? If you are, I don't mean any offense, just don't ask for any viagra. I didn't order any, despite the ads' claims that I'll desperately need it for my failing love life, though they can't spell half the words and use numbers for letters. Do they hire preteen boys to write viagra ads?

Tryptophan

Is that even how it's spelled? Who cares? Not I. For I am the cat, not the little red hen! I already have bread! I didn't need that friggin chicken to make it for me! It's quite good, actually. Imagine that! Homemade bread is good?! Wow. Not only wow, but ShamWOW! Yes. Oh yes. Yes I did. I went there. And I can say that without suspicion! Mwahahaha! No one should suspect a thing! I need to kick a chicken! No, that would be mean. I won't kick a chicken. I'll...sleep. Yes, I'll sleep. Not alone. And not asleep at all! Why do I talk? Talking burns! It burns! I'm melting! I'm melting! Hei Chavorale...Think Locally! Palo mande...Fuck Globally! Random quote? Why not? I have no need to sensor myself! It's lyrics! Words are words! Yes, that is a song! It's two lines of Think Locally, Fuck Globally by Gogol Bordello. Oh, at least I can agree with certain other "girly cannibals" that this band is wonderful, even if their lyrics make about as much sense as my spaghetti shoe. I need to sleep, but I'm hyper. Too much sugar. I make less sense than Jikei, don't I? Wow, I never thought I could accomplish that. I deserve a cookie. Or better yet, a brownie! Well, cookies are better. Time for "bed", I guess, but I should say something on the other blog, too. But that makes sense! I can't do that! Maybe I need a cookie after all!

Shfikiv

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Free Life in Unlife

Is life life? Is death the lack of life? I think life is still there in death. That is why I want to preserve the dead in a state more like life than death, but still like sleep (which is psychologically when we are closest to death (deep sleep)). Why am I going on about this? This has nothing to do with this blog! This isn't a philosophical or personal blog at all! It's a parody of Run Lola Run...how could it be philosophical in any way?  I probs shouldn't be writing this blog at all.

"I want to play a game. All your life, you have been neglecting the existence of your death, but now it seems you are almost there. I'm sure you've noticed the blades around your neck. There's no use trying to pull them off. They won't open like that. You need the key. If you look above you, you will see it hanging on that string, just above your reach. What I have placed in your reach is a plastic extendable grabber. Careful, though. The slightest tug on that string will loosen the bolt holding a giant steel spike above your head. If it falls, you will be transformed into a shishkebab. Have fun and keep your mind sharp."

It wouldn't be hard to do. You'd just have to be careful not to break the grabber too far down. You'd just have to sharpen the edge on the cement floor (which it would have to have...if not, use the collar to sharpen the plastic) and cut the string with the extendable plastic "scissors". Make sure to catch the key and unlock the bladed collar. And hey, you don't have to be a shishkebab if you're careful.

I can't tell you why I'm posting this because I don't know. If it's any compensation, I'm feeling sexy tonight.