Flourescent Freddie delivers solid headbutts

All is want for Christmas is to get it crunk!

I'm so ready to snap the frozen branches off the trees with my iron biceps. I will push my elbow cup (any idea what to call the inside of the elbow?) against the branches; I will bend my arm up gently. I will flex, and where there was wood, there will be only ridiculously hard flesh.

God, I really have nothing whatsoever to say right now.

You know what always seemed like a better idea than it actually was? Headbutting. Damn if it didn't hurt a lot.

I have no money with which to purchase christmas presents. I'm going to put glitter on my turds and wrap them in a bow. I'll put a hook on them and call them christmas ornaments. Everyone's gonna love it! It's so...so....so me, you know?

I wish my eyes were lazers. I would always win staring contests. Except against people with mirrors for eyes. Or glass heads.

Is there anybody with a glass head? I bet he never headbutts anybody. That would be a pyrrhic victory...an internecine conflict.

Isn't it stupifying that I'm single? I guess we're all just brainwashed by pop culture. Of course, the half-crazy, broke, fat guy who's scared of women always get the girl on daytime soap operas and hollywood action flicks. It makes for better t.v. But this is real life, where in fact, that isn't necessarily the case, even if he does brand his left thigh with a picture of Chester Cheetah....her love of cheetos was apparently not the best avenue of wooing.

Ok, sun. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I called you Steven when we were in bed. I know your name is really The Sun. I don't know what my problem was...I don't even know anybody named Steven. C'mon Steven, er...The Sun...come back and warm me. My neurotransmitters need your affections.

I just looked out my window and saw Flourescent Freddie (a hominid found in Indiana). Huh...how bout that.