50 ways to get your but outta my sight!

So, Mark has got a new girlfriend, but he doesn't really want to. So, Mark needs to break up with her. Trouble is, neither of us has ever actually broken up with a girl. We are the ones being broken up with. So, we need some sort of tip. We tried listening to that Paul Simon song "50 ways to leave your lover", but none of those apply to us. Sure, there is Jack, Stan, Roy, Gus and Lee, but no "Tell her that you are a narc, Mark", "Be a little snark, Mark" or "Say she was a lark, Mark", and I can't even come up with a word that rhymes with my name. Well, there is a word in the obscure african language Abumgang, which means something like "A man who takes great pleasure in itching his left knee while humming to theme to his favorite TV-panelshow", but that is not really appropriate. Mark tried to be a huge jerk, to make her break up with him, but she didn't notice any difference. So, eventually, we wrote down a bunch of reasons for why we have been broken up with in the past. So, Mark called her up and called her a womanising jerk. As it turns out, he couldn't come up with any other reason for being dumped. When I get dumped, it is for specific actions, like spraying them with anti-bacteria spray or trying to remove a tattoo with rubbing alcohol. Or responding to hands being cupped over the eyes and "guess who" with "Judging by the roughness of the hands, I would guess uncle Paulie "Fat Pig" Salvatore".

Doing something positive with my day

I have been following Something Positive for a while now. And I have noticed a pattern. Even if a reasonable conversation is taking place, the final panel will always say something horrible.

Panel 1:
X: "So what about that new TV-show with Jay Mohr?"
Y: "I hate it".
Panel 2:
X: "Me too. The producers must think us idiots".
Y: "Yeah".
Panel 3:
X: "Oralsex from small babies".
Y: "Rape of elderly male cancerpatients with syphilis".

The whole strip is pretty much the story of lives going gradually worse. Like Johnny Cash's autobiography, just a long list of things that went wrong. "So, Davan was just a-sittin' there, when, suddenly, a freakstorm hit town and ruined everything that he held dear and then he fell into a pit of inconveniently placed acid and he got horribly scarred and then PeeJee drank some methanol and went blind and Aubrey developed a taste for butterskotch and killed a guy to get some candymoney and Jason knobbed a boysenberrybush and he got a divorce and then he was playing with a gun and accidentally shot up a mall and got charged with horseplay with homicidal intent and then that cat ran away and was run over by Davans car and everyone insulted each other". It is almost worthy of a countrysong.

Alright, I admit, most of this post was just a ploy to get to write that long list of things going bad. And while, I am here, say hello to the newest member of my family, Tom Servo, my new robotic vacuum cleaner. It is like the pet I never bothered to get.

The original american idol

Theodore Roosevelt was the manliest leader of state, ever. He, and I am not kidding here, got shot in the stomach, decided that he was not shot in the lungs, since he was not coughing, and he went up and did a 90 minute speak with blood seeping out of him. And was he not about to hold a speech, I bet that he would have shown Schrank what's for. Bully!

So, I have been alone for a week

And already I got an overwhelming desire to play Second Life. I say "Play", but it is really only a very advanced chatengine and, as such, insanely boring and filled with people that goes "Any hot woman who wants to send me emails with pictures of themselves in the nude" and "Any hot woman who wants to have sex". But there never is, you fools. If a woman is hot, she doesn't have to have sex with random men from chatrooms. She can get all the men that she damn well feels like just by sticking her head out of her apartmentwindow and say "Oy, you with the big willy and the great arse. Get the hell up here and satisfy my wildest urges". So why do they need you to offer yourself? Use your brain, you idiot.

I think that I lost my train of throught, there. So, I am getting bored. I spend yesterday singing introes from songs from myself, but I always knew what they were. The day before I played Minesweeper. My record for easy was 35 minutes. I am not very good at it.

So, you are leaving me behind, eh?

Everybody is. Mark is going to Chicago to watch an american football game, and is going to stay there for a while. Julia is going with her family to Cutesy Land, an amusementpart for Cutesy the Bear, you know, the one from TV. With the catchphrase "I vuw evewyone, and so should you". Dang bear. They have seasonpasses, so who knows when they want to go home. Ashley is going on an angermanegement course. Not courtordered, surprisingly. She beat up a platoon of sailors in a bar, last week, and, as it turned out, that one guy did really just say that she ought to put some of his PEAnuts in her mouth. It was a sexual innuendo gone horribly wrong. So, I am going to be alone for quite some time. I am not quite sure what to do. Perhaps just mope around the house for as long as they are gone. I could be alone for an entire month. Julia arranged for a grocery service to deliver to my house, so I am not gonna starve. I wish that the friend-audition had went well, so that I would have had some friends outside this circle. Hey, wait a second. Didn't I have more friends before I was locked up. I am pretty sure I did. My adressbook says I did. Aaron A. Aaronson to Zachary Z. Zeddemore to Frank Turnip. It is not alphabetical. Why haven't I talked to any of these people since I was arrested. I should try to call a few people. Later. Knightrider is on right now.