Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Finga Lickin Good!

As I pulled up to the drive-through at Burger King today, one of the employees was picking up cigarette butts and shredded paper from next to the order window. He had one hand wrapped in a bandage, and was quietly going about his task. This forced the cars to stop a bit further away from the window than they usually would, but still this did not phase him from doing his job.

It was a very sad sight, he was using those long pronged stick things with crabby hands and he was picking the pieces of paper up and putting them in his other bandaged hand for lack of a bag. He handed the litter with his bare hands to the guy on the window, and he in turn took them and threw them away. I thought about the hygiene implications of this act, but as the burger I was getting was for my brother I decided it was ok. I remembered when I used to be in a demeaning low pay job, it sucked donkey balls, and this memory made me sad, so as I approached the window I thought I'd make myself feel better.

L: (pulls up to window in brand new shiny car narrowly avoiding the employee) Hey, how's your day going so far?
E(employee): How does it look like
L: Looks like it's pretty shitty to me. *smiling*

E: Yeah it's been a long day
L: Hehe, you're life must suck big time huh
E: Fuck you
L: Hehehe*laughs harder*, how much do you get paid, like 2 dollars an hour, man you're pathetic
E: leave me alone!
L: HAHAHA *boisterous loud laughter* dude that's so fucking weak, you must be like totally poor or some shit
E: (Lips starts trembling and eyes water, this fills me with great satisfaction)

L: You know I used to work in a job just like yours
E: Really! (hope flashes across his face)
L: Yeah. Fuck I remember when I used to work for nothing, It was horrible
E: So how did you make it, do you think I have a chance of getting out of here
L: *laughs heartily* Oh no no, you're stuck like a cripple in a wheel-chair my friend (I say as I wipe tears of joy from my eyes)
L: I got my money when my rich uncle died, I'll never have to work again.
E: (puts head into window) Where is this guy's order already! (voice cracking with heartbreaking sadness)
L: Yep, I know your type, big dreams and shit, *smiles smugly* you all end up poor and alone begging for scraps of bed. :) *ahahahahahhahahahah*

E: (Gives me my order with tears in his eyes)
L: Well I'll be off to enjoy my gourmet meal at my spacious home (hands him 1thou tip which he accepts with shame), Say hi to your mother for me, I'll see her later tonight. (drives of laughing heartily and disappears into traffic leaving the boy behind him choking on the dust from his gold-plated rims as bitter tears run down his eyes)

Oh yeah! I gotta go to this chain more often.


Monday, October 26, 2009

She wears short skirts

Someone needs to get a hold of tailor swift's new song before she destroys the dreams and aspirations of every teenage girl in the world.

There is a reason why the guy in the song is dating the girl in the high heels, it's because she looks like this

And you look like this

Now if it isn't clear by this point, let me spell it out. It doesn't matter if you have a connection with the guy or not. If you want a man, you better start strutting, get a boob job, and act like a total slut. Flashing him has also proven to increase the chance of a relationship by 100%.

You should realize that the entire premise of the song, that " what you are looking for has been here the whole time" is the equivalent of saying that you are a bag of potatoes. If he doesn't feel like sticking his manhood into you you'll never get him.


Saturday, October 24, 2009

The Case of the Missing Lighter OR A Nasty Celebration

And this is what happens when you turn shwenty two...

Friday, October 23, 2009

Its Blog Half-Creator Day, Yea!

On October 23, a very very long time ago, it was around the year 3009756 before zilliplawshlfou had reigned guawnidlibtik and been murdered for preposterous posts, a little boy was born. He was named Luke, and his parents couldnt seem to be able to provide the basic necessities of living in their little blob of purple rubber and green doored home, and it got cold in their little planet often, for lack of red burning-abled spaguettishlfou (yes it had been zilliplawshlfou who had discovered this magic medium and so it was named after him) and so they decided to give luke a second name, and they called him warm, and thus our beloved lukewarm came into being on this planet at this time and so today we happily rejoice at the occasion of his existence and wish him a happy happy happy happy happy birthday!!

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Lucky Number Seven

Mother of God!

When I heard the news today I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Of course I immediately realized how preposterous this was, knowing that with the things I'd done I was definitely going to hell.

Shortly after resolving their differences Satan and the long haired white guy join powers to kick our ass.

In order to commemorate the release of Windows 7, Burger King Japan has released a 7 patty Burger!

This cow in between bread costs a mere $8.5 and is certified by experts to contain 8 times the usual amount of baby calf angst. Delicious!

Efforts to contact Japan by BazellaWriz in order to acquire this divine gift have resulted in failure, reports claim that the entire population of Japan has been devastated and now lies in a sleepy satisfied stupor.

In other news the recent beef shortage shows no sign of letting up.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Architecture and the loss of innocence

I have taken on this new habit of walking to school with my iPod earphones blasting music into my ears. My iPod is thankful for it, after almost 4 years of gathering dust in my drawer, but today walking back after a long day of frustrating thesis presentation, boring english class, and two long and exhausting theater design /performance art courses, it made me feel like the loneliest person on earth. It's a weird feeling, to be walking through the busy streets of a city at sunset, yet be completely disconnected from it, for lack of its noise reaching your ears. Although physically I was walking in Hamra, my mind was numbly absorbing the sounds of Svo Hlj├│tt, and the intensity of the music took over my whole being. For a moment I felt like I didn't exist, like I was watching myself from a distance, and then I felt alone. Then I started thinking about cities, of course, and my thesis, and I felt meaningless.
Then I thought about my fine arts class, design in theatre, in which only anth and I are architects, and how much happier and free the others seemed to be. Not in the nagging "I am in architect I have so much work I am always tired" kind of opposite way, rather, they seemed happy doing whatever they wanted, without censoring themselves too much, and it made their results so much more accidental and surprising, in a good way, I thought. And I started thinking about how bad it is that we are trained to criticize others and ourselves so much, how limiting it is that we think of everything in terms of how great a contribution it is, how everything we design has to have a function and a concept and a meaning. Whatever happened to taking a colored pencil and just drawing your heart out on a piece of paper? When did we become such cynical, critical, tight, bitter individuals with no playfulness or will to let go and accept failure, whatever that may be? Why does everything have to have a reason, a meaning, a concept?
The students in my class, who haven't been trained as architects or designers, they have let their imaginations run wild, their feelings come through, and they are thankful for an opportunity to express their innermost desires and thoughts. And I who have been trained to think like a designer, to draw like an architect, to represent like an artist, freeze before the task of transforming a shoe box into a stage, for lack of context, lack of subject, lack of concept. It could be anything, and that scares me, stops me from imagining anything. "The architecture of everything is the architecture of nothing", Najjar said this morning. In architecture, the more constraints are imposed on a site, the easier it is to design. Context gives meaning, creates concept. So what does this mean? That actually we have been trained to kill our imagination? That we have become problem solvers, who reject that which has no grounding in anything previously existing? Can anything have a meaning, even if it is not one reliant on a critical analysis of something else? We laugh at people who call us "creative"; "There is no such thing as taste, creativity, or originality", we say.
What are we then? Arrogant egotistical machines that know how to analyze problems of design and resolve them? What are we so arrogant about then, if its only a question of addressing constraints that challenges us, and just to do that involves so much hard work and long hours. So basically what we're saying is we're stupid, we're slow, we have no special "talent", we don't need imagination, we are not allowed to invent anything or create anything without a reason for it, and everything should be explained.
Great, now someone please remind me, why did I choose to become an architect again?

Monday, October 19, 2009

Lukewarm goes to Azaryeh

I went to get a copyright for my upcoming book. I was told that the department of intellectual property was in the Azaryeh building downtown.

Me: So is this where I can copy-right my book.
Her: yes this is the place. So do you want to register the name or the content.
Me: I want to register the name please
Her:  I recommend you register the content too.
Me: Is that necessary
Her: I know this one guy who worked 5 years to finish an encyclopaedia and when he published it he only copyrighted the name and some dude photocopied it and sold it for 70,000.
Me: Ha! What an idiot
Her: So I'm going to need three copies of everything.
Me: Here you go (Drops huge manuscript on desk)
Her: (She starts sorting through the pages,)
Me: So I noticed you have red hair, you a natural red head? ;)
Her: (flips to page with a picture of an underage child) Um what is this?
Me: It's a picture of a 5 year old in handcuffs. So about that hair colour, cause you know you would look great in my book.
Her: ...
Me: don't worry his parents were right there next to him (I point at another picture with 2 bloody bodies next to the child)
Her: um this will have to go through the censors office.(she starts shifting in her seat uncomfortably, this naturally turns me on)
Me: Yeah that's cool. So what do you say, are you interested?
Her: (Opening to another page) this one's date is from today
Me: yeah, that girl is still tied to my bed... Don't worry I can get rid of her and fit you in for 8pm.
Her: I think it's best if we just ...
Me: Splendid lets meet up tonight.
Her: (Pauses, breathes, sighs and continues) so what is the name of the book
Me: I was thinking " thirty five year olds"
Her: (Checks the system) ok that's available
Me: great
Her: Right. Ok just leave me your number and we'll contact you in a few days.
Me: How about you leave me your number ;)
Me: (I write down my number and slide it to her) I'll just meet up with you after work then.

This book is going to be awesome!
Oh and turns out she wasn't a natural red-head, what a waste of piano wire!


Sunday, October 18, 2009

Everyone in AUB is a fucking Zombie!

You guys have had childhoods yes?

Well every childhood needs a crazy cat-lady. A woman that smells like urine lives alone in a  dark old house, and seems to have forsaken contact with the outside world.Just like every other woman in the world, except for one little detail ...

This one's house is filled with at least 30 cats at any given time, all of whom she has given names, personalities, moods, habits, and sometimes ridiculous outfits.

It's a little known fact but even the cats are scared shitless of this woman.

Well science has shown that this lady's creepy, behaviour is not her fault!

There's no excuse for those horrible pants though

Turns out all cats carry a parasite called Toxoplasma Gondii. This thing sits in the cat's stomach harmlessly waiting untill the cat poops. When it does, it releases like spores or some shit and infects any mammals who happen to inhale or eat it. As a result this thing has a much higher incidence in the shit eating community, just like herpes!

So what does this parasite do?

Well, when rats eat it, the parasite releases chemicals that  fuck with the rat's brain and causes it to stop fearing Cats. Instead the rat runs straight up to the cat and yells "Fuck you" over and over.

On the upside the rats seem to enjoy the whole experience

Naturally cats don't understand rat speak so all they hear is the delicious squeaking of dinner.

But if this is what it does to rodents, what does it do to humans?

"Research on Toxoplasma gondii, a cat parasite, suggests that chronic infection causes subtle behavioral, personality, and psychological changes in infected people."

Don't be fooled by the mild mannered terminology of the above sentence. It's merely using science talk so that it won't incite panic driven cat slaughtering rampages. If you translate the above phrase in Google to English it will come out as "Turn into a fucking zombie"

This parasite while handled by our immune system with relative ease seems to cause depression, stress and leads humans to suicidal schizophrenic behaviour.

This revolutionizes our relationship with cats. They are not our pets, they are an infestation! Cat Lady's are not quirky they are fucking INFECTED!

Like this, but scarier

I propose a human and feline purge to drive this malicious disease out of our species. We'll have to round up everyone who's contacted a cat and have them tested and then killed.

Now that's a job opening I'm qualified for!


So looks like my updates have gone down to twice a week, but I won't make it official so I can still post up more often if I can. If you own a cat go get yourself checked.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Blog Action Day, yeah!

Today is Blog Action Day and the topic of the year is Climate Change. I've previously posted something which tangentially had to do with climate change. And if none of you have noticed yet, this thing is as real as the emptiness in your soul.

I would recommend you check all Lebanese blogs linked here and to check the blogosphere in general.

To see what blogs are participating check out this link.

Many people are under the delusion that what they do does not make a difference. The truth is it does, otherwise we could just kill you and no one would notice, but existentialism aside, every person can contribute to preventing climate change.

On the other hand If you're interested in fomenting it well then you can do that too, but it will probably be a very lonely and horrible earth that you will live in, one where small island nations cease to exist, extreme weather conditions dominate the earth, and the human species dwindles down to just a few million individuals. Come to think of it that does sound pretty awesome.

BUT! it would only be awesome if we did it on purpose. To think that some pathetic natural phenomenon would be the result of our demise sickens me to my core. I implore all of you to do your part to keep climate change at bay until some mad scientist/evil villain appears to wipe out the human race. That is our destiny!

I will leave you with a special version of the vault for this special event.


The Horrors of Global Warming


Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Love is all we need. Or is it?

So, you know when you've been thinking about something, and then things start happening all around you that relate to it, and suddenly its everywhere, and you start thinking about it more and more and you can't seem to get anywhere?
Well anyway, I have been thinking about love for a while now ( I know, so girly of me! ), and relationships, and whether or not love exists, and what the hell is it anyway, and why do we feel the need to be with someone else, etc, etc ...
The thing is, I'm not saying I'm a bitter non-love believer, I have been in love, or so I thought, I actually thought I was in love for loooong periods of time, 3 years once , then 4 years. Until it all came crumbling down and I found myself single for the first time in 8 years. Now it didn't end pretty, so it was hard, but after the initial hurt and sadness and depression and all accompanying symptoms of a painful breakup, I started realizing that I was actually much much much muuuuch happier alone. Now maybe it just goes to show the relationship was meant to end, and if I was so miserable maybe I shouldn't have been in it that long in the first place, but the truth is, we get used to people, and we get used to having "constant" affection, or at least hoping for it, knowing that there is this one person who is supposed to be there for you no matter what. But when you start to melt into the other person, and you're unhappy but you're so used to them that you can't imagine living without them but at the same time being with them is becoming so destructive , then can we still call this love? I thought I loved my ex boyfriend, but if I think about it now, I don't even remember what I felt that made me think that way. I was just so used to sharing my life with him, that after a while it was like I never even thought about it. And just like I was used to being in a seriously dangerously "serious" relationship , now I have gotten used to being on my own. And seriously, its a lot lot better. I found out things about myself, I rediscovered the things I was passionate about, I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, and most importantly, nothing and no one can make me cry my heart out anymore because my happiness now depends on myself. And all I need to be happy is to do the things I like doing, to push my passions forward and to basically be "myself" ( what is myself is a whole other issue that we will be discussing some other time, though ). And that is starting to make me think that If I can be so happy being alone, then so can everyone else, and then why would we ever need to be with someone else? Now if I really wanted to, I could've felt lonely at some times, but the truth is, a boyfriend is not the only person who will care about me, and lots of other people care about me, parents and family and teachers and old friends and new friends and even random strangers will surprise you sometimes... So in fact, we don't really need just one person to care about us more than anyone else, and a lot of friends who care about you are more precious than a boyfriend who will care about you for a year, or two or three and then disappear from your life. Which gets me to the second thing I've been wondering about and that is, supposing love does exist, can it really last that long? I mean, I know people get married and spend their whole lives together , and sometimes can be happy with each other forever. But I've been wondering, at least from what I've seen, doesn't it all just become a habit? I think we admire people sometimes, and we get to like them and feel close to them and maybe "love" them, and hence we want to spend time with them, but then after a few years when you've said everything you could possibly say and you know everything about the other person completely and nothing is a mystery anymore and you understand how they think and work and what makes them evil and what makes them sweet, and you see the ugly side and the good side, and you come to hate them at some points and despise them at others, is it still love? Or is it just that we don't want to die alone, and everyone else is a couple, and we are scared of being lonely, that makes us stay with each other? Is it habit? Or is it normal that "love" just turns into something else, like a mutual agreement to stick with each other and share lives? What if no one got married, and no one was a couple, and everyone was just friends with everyone else, and we could be attracted to many many different people, and be close to them for a while, and share great moments with them, and then just go on discovering other people, and share other moments with those other people, wouldn't that be more natural? I'm not saying I'm a libertine, and I'm not saying go sleep with everyone you see, but really, isn't human instinct more like that than any other sort of social interaction that we accept today? How many can claim that they have never looked at someone else while being in a relationship, or liked someone else, or kissed someone else, or slept with someone else? Where is the boundary between "normal" and "maybe I should be reconsidering my relationship with X" ? And here enters the question of morals, and the strength of our wills and beliefs. See, I'm sure some people stay together forever, and are happy with each other, and don't cheat on each other, and respect one another, but I think it all depends on wanting to do these things. I mean, we can decide to spend the rest of our lives with someone, and care about this person, and decide that we will be loyal and faithful and caring, and turn away from any temptation, and even when faced with difficulties and problems choose to solve them to stay together and stay happy. Or we could just give up and break up or give in and cheat and let the whole thing blow up in our face eventually. So what makes some people choose the first one, or the second? Marriage is no guarantee, and even though some people may want to preserve their marriage, sometimes, they might not resist the temptation. What is it that makes us chose one person over another? After a basic "do we get along" check, I think most people could "fall in love" with anyone, if they chose to. All they would have to do would be to convince themselves that they are, and sustain this belief as long as they wish to. So is it all just an illusion? And if it is, is it so bad?
I never had a problem with being loyal, I'm someone who has never been that static, but somehow when it came to relationships, my boyfriends were the only thing stable in my life. Am I saying I never "liked" other guys while being with my boyfriends, no, of course I did. But I never had the urge to do anything about it. If I had been religious, this would all have been easier, because church doctrine tells us that marriage is about respect and love and concessions and being together in good and bad. Two religious people probably would stay together forever, in that case. But what if one out of two is not ready to make concessions, to commit forever, to renounce temptation? And how can you ever tell, when its all nice and perfect at the beginning? I guess you can never tell, and you just have to trust, or learn to trust again, or decide never to trust and be happy by yourself. When I was 16 I used to think I wouldn't get married before I was 50, so I wouldn't die alone, but also wouldn't ruin my life and freedom with kids and commitment when I could still use it. Now I'm 21, and I'm not so sure about the whole thing anymore, and I don't know if I'll get lonely way before I'm fifty, and I don't even know if I will ever be married. I mean, who can tell? And maybe I will find out if love exists, and maybe I won't, either way it doesn't matter, at least now you got to read something other than the Katzenklavier.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

The Katzenklavier


As you may have noticed I've been away for longer than the usual.

The truth is I've been on an undercover  weird fact-finding mission deep in the amazon!

On a quest to bring you the bat-shit craziest stories on the internet!

But that has nothing to do with the one I'm about to bust out now.

 Me undercover fact finding in the Amazon

Eons ago in the 1700's mankind was still an underdeveloped Neanderthal when it came to music taste. The music of the era was a result of what can only  be described as the union of the bastard children of Pink and JayZ marrying the love child of Britney Spears and Taylor Swift.

Then out of the darkness, one man stood out! One man brave enough to try the unthinkable. To go to such great lenghts in the name of music. To attempt what many had called madness!

  What the Fuck!

No not cow milking! (though I can imagine that taking up a spot on the bazella w riz of the 5000 BC's)

That man came up with the Katzenklavier!

What the Fuck!

Unsatisfied by the un-organic low cruelty tones of the Piano this man decided that he wanted an instrument that gave him the closest link to nature. So instead of making love to road-kill like the rest of us, this guy collected cats and made them sing for his pleasure.

Trapped in a wooden box the cats had their tails put under the piano keys, and whenever the musician pushed a key the corresponding cat would "sing" its note.I like to think that the he originally had little guillotines instead of the piano keys, and that he chopped off the tails and replaced the cats after every performance.

In many ways we've really come a long way since then but sometimes as I stare at the Katzenklavier poster above my bed I wish I could go back to the time when things were just so much more bad ass.*sigh*

I guess I'll just have to use my Imagination and listen to Mariah Carey tracks. heyo!


Thursday, October 08, 2009

Lukewarm works on his thesis

Something deep and profound happened to me yesterday.

I was in a meeting with my University advisor, and while we were wrapping up we came to the topic of what my imminent thesis was going to be about.

She asked me a question that made me feel like I was hit over the head with ... like a rock.. or something.

"What are you interested in?"

I was like woah man!  My mind was suddenly filled with things like, dopplegangers, bears fighting mooses meese moose over honey pots, 12 year old Indonesian boy girl prostitutes, a brain preserved without a body, and just who the hell has been putting worms in my digestive system!

But ultimately I told her that I didn't know.

While she went off on how the hell it was possible that after 4 years in a major I havn't come across a single topic I am interested in, I silently had a flashback acid trip.

 Next thing I know I'm aware that somehow I've gotten myself onto the fifth floor of the women's dorms.

I don't really remember what words were exchanged with my advisor but I was in a berserk high, fueled by the smell of female hormones.

At the end of the corridor there was an intense glow coming from one of the doors. A weird music beckoned me to it, I was unable to resist.

I stood face to face with a dull blue sign with the picture of what i can only describe as a Victorian era man with a top hat. The glow is coming from behind the door.

I walk into the Men's room and I'm amazed by what my eyes behold. The most lavish bathroom I have ever seen. A jacuzzi  takes up most of the space and on the side there are three faucets, one for hot water, one for cold water, and one labelled wine. I remember there being a urinal and a toilet but my attention was so focused on the center piece that I do not remember much about them.

I take of all of my clothes set them in a pile on the immaculately clean floor and take my place in the jacuzzi. I turn on the wine faucet and a sparkling red liquid gushes out filling the bath to its rim. The smell of the wine immediately fills the room. As I sit in my therapeutic wine, soaking up the essential alcohol nutrients for my body I  begin to feel relaxed and groggy.

But before I can drift into a stupor induced sleep the ground starts shaking. I'm naturally alarmed at this as it's ruining the wine I'm bathing in. I begin to lift myself from the red pool when a giant hand rips off the roof of the bathroom. All I can catch of the hand was that it was white and discernibly hairy. The shock of the roof being pulled off pushes me back into my wine bath. As I try to regain my balance and get the hell out of the room the hand reaches back in and picks the jacuzzi up while I'm in it. Turns out the hand belongs to God and as he takes gigantic gulps from the now wine glass I slide and fall deep into the darkness that is his internal digestive system. I remember thinking that I hope I give him gas.

Everything is dark, and I feel acute sensory deprivation. I hear a faint thudding noise and the voice of a woman! It's my advisor banging her book on the desk telling me to wake up. Turns out I fainted from the heat, in doing so getting out of the whole thesis discussion!

So let that be a lesson to all of you. Keep your air-conditioning on Winter hasn't started yet!


Also prepare yourself for a surprise either this Monday or the next.

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

The dignity of death

If you've been reading this blog for some time, you will know that the title to this piece does not imply that I will be dealing with how dignified death is. In fact you're probably expecting some awful story about how demeaning and disgusting death is.What can I say, you guys know me.

Above: A completely inaccurate portrayal of death. Get up! you're not fooling anyone!

The saying that death is a glorious dignified process upon which a man or woman leaves this earth is just romantic imagery. The truth is that death is as messy as a toddler in a peanut butter factory. Except the toddler is your dead grandpa and the peanut butter is shit.

There are quite a few ways your death can go wrong. The most common would be you shitting your pants upon death.

How bad would it be if your grandchildren came to play a game of fake heart attacks with you and instead you crapped your pants! On a scale of 1 to 10 that lies just above discovering your wife is actually Michael Jackson, but just below BEING MICHAEL JACKSON! heyo!

Relevant because he died humiliated and disgraced! Just like you will!

The second worst cause of embarrassment for the loved ones you left behind is when you ejaculate upon death. This most often happens during asphyxiation related dying. Imagine your tear-ey eyed son staring up at the gallows as you try to make your way with the least amount of whimpering. You hope that you have set an example for your child to follow as you near your final moments. You step up to the plate hold your breath, because some guy told you it would hurt less, and let go of this world, comfortable with the knowledge that you went out in the best way possible.

 The world will forever remember you as the master of kung fu movies. Oh and that time you died by strangling yourself to a death inducing orgasm.

Meanwhile  in the real world, your body is violently jerking about as you cum your pants, your child laughs at you, runs up to the executioner and adopts him as his new dad. The camera fades out with your son giving his new dad a thumbs up as he's comforting your bereaved wife.

Your wife after being "comforted" ;)

Last on this list is when you explode after you die. This requires the natural process of you own bacteria digesting you from the inside out and filling you with gas until you blow up from the pressure. It makes a great way for the bacteria to get around but you will always be remembered as that jerk that got his intestines in Sunday's lunch.


Also I know it's really slow but I'm still struggling to juggle University and maintaining the blog while I bang your mom's brains out! oh yeah! Hopefully I'll soon find my pace without losing the intensity. Maybe I'll slow updates down to twice a week.

Friday, October 02, 2009

Are you going to finish that?

Don't you guys just hate it when you eat something that's bad and you only realize it after you've taken a couple of bites, and the taste is already entrenched in your mouth!

Most of us are actually put off by rotting mouldy food unless you're French or any subset of the Frenchie variety. In that case feel free to stuff your francophone loving cheeks with all the fungus and mouldy cheese your weak surrendering asses can handle!

Hon Hon! Delicieuse!

But the rest of us would be more than happy living the rest of our lives without ever encountering another mould covered food product ever! Unless it's situated next to an incredibly attractive model, or just a plain looking model, hell any kind will do, preferably of the tied up variety.

Moving on though I recently read an article on the amount of insect and rat shit allowed in the average food product. Obviously it'll never be the way mom used to make'em but I'm glad to know the FDA is trying hard to preserve that special rat dropping taste that makes bacon sandwiches so appealing.

Makes you wonder about a lot of the stuff that we're eating. Could it be that Mcdonalds is not really using the "best quality beef" available. What if  McDonald's meat was actually 0.02% Mexican hands! Holy Cow!

meh who am I kidding we all know they have our interests in mind.


You may have noticed that the last two posts have been extremely mild but I'm happy to inform you that Sober September is OVER!!! Hell Yes! back to inserting inappropriate swear words! And I think I've calibrated how intoxicated I need to be for my creative process! A milestone for any aspiring writer! It's more than two bottle of beer but less than half a bottle of Vodka! Sweet!