I got lost.

I was headed to the boy's house, because I was tired of living at the bus station and all. He'd written me a Father's Day letter that was six months late (give or take, but still way too late to save my hard-earned cheese sandwich from that psycho living in the handicapped stall), so we had a nice little chat via courier pigeon or ( Read more... )

HURRY UP DAMN IT BEFORE HE EATS MY SANDWICH

*wakes up from coma*

HOLY SHIT. I had the worst fucking nightmare. I was in a cave, fending off bald cannibals with a stick. Then a tribe of dirt mermaids popped out of the ground and started EATING MY FACE.

I hate comas. The dirt mermaids always eat me.

WHEREZ MAH PROGENY?! HEY. BOY. Pick me up at the bus station.

I created a Friends list. I put something in my userinfo. I'm updating (kind of) within two days of my previous update. I do, in fact, exist, beyond contestation. Are all my kids still alive and stuff?

Nutmeg and I were having a picnic a few months ago, and while I was off feeding the horses some caviar to get them to shut up, poof, she disappeared. We've had this problem before, being so recently dead, so I packed up lunch and went off to look for her. After a while, popping in and out of every fucking province, neighborhood and bathroom in ( Read more... )

My family: My son is in rampant denial and has taken to stapling hats to the foreheads of halfling children; my oldest daughter is tripping on some sort of cold medication; I have no idea where the little one is; one grandson can't find his ass with both hands and lets some old guy do it for him instead, and another grandson fell into some puddle ( Read more... )

My son wants me to "post more" to determine whether or not I have a personality.

I don't. Sorry.

I keep getting these envelopes with skulls and crossbones all over them in my mailbox. Fucking junk mail. Probably a sweepstakes or something. I hear a lot about Gabriel Byrne looking for me, too. Freaks. I'm going to go watch Happy Days now.

I've arrived.

Children, rejoice.