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In other news, I am eating the best motherfucking chocolate pudding there has ever been.


Yeah, ok.

Comment and I will comment back with a picture/pictures of something that most remind(s) me of you. Then post the same in your journal.

Aw, here we go

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Well, that was fun. le_rose_dete, this is your fault for doing an Armistice/Veteran's Day remembrance on your dang journal. Fucker's sentimental as hell; y'all know how he gets.

Anyway, we're not talking about it because I don't recognize DID as clinically legit. Imma go do some heroin-- that's in-keeping enough with fucking themes to shut him up. Jesus.

...you know, WW1 had some pretty fucking sweet chemical weapons...

The Doctor is IN.

Hey, y'all, long time no see, and I do apologize about that-- I been busier than a fucking one-legged man in an asskicking contest, like y'all don't even know-- Halloween and all that, which I'll tell y'all all about a little later, and some private business of mine that I very well may never talk about because it involved riding around with a quasi-conscious and practically naked woman in the sidecar of some gayass, dinky little moped, and Lord fucking Jesus, no, we are not going there again. I cannot even tell y'all how many goddamn powdery and sticky chemicals I have had to put inside of me to try and forget all that. Like, no offense Miss y'all-know-who-you-are, but that is buried in a deep, dark place in my mind along with bathtime at the Keeney house and the Batshit and all of Granny's bad-touchiMARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB WHO'S FLEECE WAS--


Autumn is a difficult time for all y'all with, let's say, psychotic proclivities. Or, right, sorry, all y'all sensitive fucker--individuals who are in no way mentally ill, but may have some slight leanings in that particular direction, especially what with bad times and daylight-savings and family gatherings-oriented holidays and shit like that this time of year. Nothing like creeping cold and skeleton trees and an hour more of night to bring out those frightening places in our minds, is all I'm saying.

In the face of a potentially mounting mental crisis, I just want to let all y'all know that Doctor Crane is here to help. Need some advice, some intimate--No Homo-- counsel, a prescription, or just someone to listen? Post here and I'll do whatever I can to help, or send me a message and we'll schedule an appointment.

Don't y'all worry about payment, either. We'll, ah, work something out.

London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, Falling down.
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady.
Take a key and lock her up,
Lock her up, Lock her up.
Take a key and lock her up,
My fair lady.
How will we build it up,
Build it up, Build it up?
How will we build it up,
My fair lady?

Build it up with silver and gold,
Silver and gold, Silver and gold.
Build it up with silver and gold,
My fair lady.
Gold and silver I have none,
I have none, I have none.
Gold and silver I have none,
My fair lady.
Build it up with needles and pins,
Needles and pins, Needles and pins.
Build it up with needles and pins,
My fair lady.
Pins and needles bend and break,
Bend and break, Bend and break...

So, uh,

I'm going to go ahead at blame this on the drugs.



Damn, I miss home...


I woke up this morning to MORE FUCKING CATS than I really have the capacity to care about. Some bitch shat 'em out and decided to raise them in my goddamn house, like, hell, there's probably safer places to live in a nuclear power plant, but the dumb shits decided on my place. Shit.

So, ok, I'm not heartless-- them little fucks are all shivering from the rain so I patted them and they FUCKING SCRATCHED MY SHIT LIKE FUCK YOU I DIDN'T LOVE YOU ANYWAY DAMN CATS. And I got them some milk and biscuits even though they're UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SHITS and then they peed on themselves so, hell, I dunked a couple in my utility sink and they started bitching and crying and scratching me some fucking more!


And by the way, Frosty, 'Winter' there's got an inflamed butthole and I dunno if that means she got worms or what, but, uh. Be wary.

"There was a crooked man"

Who walked a crooked mile.
He found a crooked sixpence
Against a crooked stile.
He bought a crooked cat
Which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together
In a crooked little house."

Y'all, I don't even got a preamble rant today, all I got to say is I am so excited about Crack-fucking-opolis. --Y'all heard about this shit Joker and Zeus have been cooking up these past couple months? Now, I know that pair is straight-up windier than a bag of assholes, but this is the real fucking deal. I'm not on the inside or nothing, but I hear things and this place is like the fucking vice den to end all vice dens; shit's gonna be slicker than snot on a doorknob, I swear to God. Crackoplolis is hot like a popcorn fart, like y'all don't even know. 

I don't fucking know if y'all gonna be there, but I sure as hell am, and y'all know I bring the shit to parties. Now, I'm not saying I'll necessarily have a fuckton on hand, but I'm taking bids, making negotiations, ya ken? So show the hell up and tell the door fucks that you're there to see Scary and we'll see where that gets you. 

Oh hell, I almost forgot! Y'all're all fucking perverts and shit, right? Okay, y'all gonna love this: the main event is a fucking, uh, like tiny colored-hanky-style bikini Cage match between Roulette (the coked-up bitch who owns the House; y'all remember her? She's not been around lately, I hear) and, sweet, tiny, colicky baby Jesus, the Joker. Yep, both in microfuckingscopic women's swimsuits, sure as hell. I know I'm going to be curled up in the fetal position in a bathroom stall somewhere either crying or trying to snort a stack of dimes or both, but y'all be sure to get a glimpse and tell me all about the nasty, bouncy private parts coming out all over the place.  

...Let's be clear on this, if any of y'all actually try to tell me all about the nasty, bouncy private parts coming out all over the place, I will plug my ears and sing Dixie at the top of my lungs, and I swear to God I am fucking tone-deaf like y'all don't even know and you will not enjoy that shit. 

Hey, anybody got any word on whether they're going to have good cornbread and not that gritty-ass Jiffy bullshit?  
LOOK, IT 'S A LEGITIMATE INQUIRY INTO THE NATURE OF OUR RELATIONSHIP-- Aw hell, I stole this shit from fucking everybody.

YOU'RE THE __________ TO MY __________

1) The way this usually works is stupid. Just comment here.
2) People will comment about how you're the... blue to their sky.
Or peanut butter to their jelly.
3) Have fun. Be silly. Don't wank. All that jazz.

Fill it out and I'll give you drugs.