Don't ever stop writing.

Right now, as you can see, I'm writing a blog post.  Well, actually, you can't see it, you can only see the finished product, which doesn't exist yet.  HOWEVER, after staring at a blank blog...post...thing for about five minutes, and my deadline I just made up now rapidly approaching, I said FUCK IT I'M GOING TO START TYPING. And since this imaginary deadline is so close it leaves little room for thought, I just won't stop.  What you are witnessing is my brain vomiting all over your computer screen for about ten minutes (how do brains vomit?  does the head, like....open?)  and it's going to be beautiful.

Unfortunately, typing all the time means I don't have time to think of clever penis jokes or find pictures to accompany this post, illustrating my points in a poignant and humorous way.  Also, I've been on at least a four month hiatus, and with only about six posts before I took said hiatus, so this may not be the best idea for my first new post in a long long while.  Ah, well, no one reads this anyways.  Which surprises me.  I'm clearly the greatest writer on the internet (shut up I am), and yet I'm not drowning in money and scantily clad women.  Something is wrong here.  Internet, I trusted you to make me a millionaire off of a blog that I put minimal effort in a couple times a month, and it hasn't happened.  My only question is, what the fuck?  am I not good enough for you?  Not enough boobs?  is that it?  That's it, isn't it.  Not enough boobs.  Damn my lack of boobs.  That sounded weird.  MOVING ON.

Is it true that goldfish only have an eight second memory?  Every goldfish is Dory from Finding Nemo.  Somewhere, there is a crowd of goldfish in a tank, and they're all terrified because all they're thinking is "Where am I who are these fish whats happening gotta swim where am I who are these fish--hold the phone, is that food I see?"  going through life with no memory of your friends or family, only thinking about eating and sleeping...Nevermind, this sounds fucking awesome.

I wonder if I can turn myself to a goldfish.  Would that change my brain function?  Or would I e the smartest goldfish ever, being discovered by a cruel ringmaster who forces me to do tricks in his cheap circus so as not to be fed to the thousand pound woman?

Goldfish crackers are tasty, but I feel like a little kid whenever I eat them.  WHERE IS THE SOPHISTICATED WORKING MANS CHEESY CRACKERS, I ask you?  WHERE?

How many kinds of cheese are there?  Probably a lot.  It's gotta be a lot, I mean hell, you just slap some type of mold on a cheese and its a whole new cheese.  So its types of cheese (normal) x types of mold = types of cheese (total).  I just made cheese slightly less appealing to 90% of the non existent people reading this.  Or who will be reading this.  whatever.

I just made up an equation on the spot.  It's a good one too.  Does that make me a genius?  If I'm a genius, do I get paid to sit and think?  I think I read somewhere that if you have a certain IQ level, which I clearly do (see cheese equation) then you get something like 50,000 dollars from the government.  Maybe I don't need you after all, internet.  You and your boob fixation.

Yes, internet, it IS a perfectly understandable fixation.  Boobs are pretty great.

What if my grandmother reads this?  Will all this talk of boobs mean she'll write me out of her will?  Does my grandmother know I have a blog?  Does she know how to get to it?  Boobs?

OH GOD THE DEADLINE THAT I MADE UP IS COMING PUBLISH PUBLISH NO TIME TO CHECK FOR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS!  GO MAN GO!

If angry birds was real

[There is a line up of birds besides a giant slingshot, with one bird walking the line back and forth.  One bird, obviously a grizzled veteran, walks down the line while giving a pep talk to the young recruits.]

Veteran ‘Red bird’:  Now, listen up recruits.  You’re all here because you want to fight for your nest against the evil pigs, and win back the eggs that they so wrongly took from us.

Rookie ‘yellow’ bird:  Uhh, actually, we’re here because we’re forced to be here.  In fact, you’ve recruited every single bird from the nest.  THOUSANDS of us.

Red bird:  You listen here, private.  These pigs have taken our eggs, our FUTURE, and you just want to sit around and do nothing?  Well, SOME OF US want to win our eggs back!

Yellow bird:  No, no, that’s not what I’m saying.  All that I’m saying here is recruiting every one of us seems like overkill.  I mean, once we lose, like, 50 birds on this mission, I think it might be time to give up.

Red:  Oh, I’M SORRY, I DIDN’T KNOW WE COULD JUST GO HOME ANYTIME AND LEAVE THOSE EGGS TO DIE.

Yellow:  Well…Yeah.  We can.  I mean, the pigs took them to eat them, right?  So they’re probably already dead.

Red:  AND THAT’S SUPPOSED TO STOP US?!?!?!

Yellow:  But…I mean….is it really worth it to give up the lives of hundreds of birds for this?  For godssake, these pigs built walls, bunkers, castles, and even a fake bubble bath to keep us out.  By the time we get to the eggs, there will be a trail of thousands of dead birds.  All for, what, ten eggs?  Twenty?

Red:  The eggs are our FUTURE, private.  They took the next GENERATION.

Yellow:  Do you realize that you drop OTHER EGGS on the pigs?  Like,  HUNDREDS of eggs?  You turn them into makeshift bombs!

White:….Uh…He has a point, sir.

Yellow:  Not to mention the birds you actually STICK BOMBS into and send them off to die.

Black:  *Sobbing* for….For the nest!

Never forget.

[Black bird launched, screams are heard as he flies through the air, an explosion, then, nothing.]

Yellow:  Oh, and what about the little kids that you genetically modify to split into three like a bloody buckshot?  You’re insane, commander.

Red:  You listen here, runt.  I’ve been shot out of that slingshot 50 times before you ever set FOOT on the battlefield.

Yellow:  Oh, I’m sure you have.  And then you follow a lazy arc, and crash into a slab of wood.  Worst case, you break some bones.  They’ll fix you up and you’ll be back here in no time.  You’re sending most of us to CERTAIN DEATH.

White:  DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD IT IS TO GIVE BIRTH MID FLIGHT?!?!

Red:  Ho…. How dare you?  What about YOUR job?  All you do is fly at them, as well.

Yellow:  That’s true, but AT LUDCROUS SPEEDS.  You know what happened last time I saw someone with my job launch at the pigs?  THEY HAD TO PEEL HIM OFF THE CASTLE WALL.

Red: Uh….um….

Yellow:  And what’s with the slingshot?  WE’RE BIRDS.  WE CAN FLY.  We don’t have to splatter on a wall; we can swoop in, and target the pigs specifically.  WHY DON’T WE DO THAT.

Red:  We….. Uh…

Yellow:  And you know what else?  THE PIGS ARE GREEN.  They’re obviously dying of some horrible disease, whether we attack them or not.  FUCK THIS.  I’m going to the dirty birdie strip club, who’s coming with?

[All birds but red leave.]

Red:…..Well, shit.

Why the astrological sign change is not a big deal (by Jared Collins)

Recently, I went on to the internet, clicked the search bar, entered the address for a News site, and what I saw both terrified and repulsed me.  On the front age of the site, one of the stories was "Astrological sign change; has YOUR sign changed?"  If that wasn't bad enough, yet another story on the site said "Internet users flooding web with complaints about astrological change".  That's right, two of the top stories were both dedicated to a change that was made recently to the astrological signs, and one of which is about how my beloved internet was being defiled by this change.  I decided that it was time to take a stand, and inform the 8 people who read these articles why freaking out about this is a complete waste of time.

Ways Facebook can ruin your life

Almost everyone who is going to read this article has a facebook, twitter, or, dare I say it, mypace account that you either use, or is sitting in a dusty corner of the internet.

I'm legally obligated to put a picture of this movie on any facebook related article.

But weather you spend hours on these sites each day, or you don't own a computer (unlikely, seeing as you're reading this) there are ways that these sites can ruin your life.