Doing Things

Hi there!

Do you like to do things? Lots of people like to to do lots of different things. Some people like to go to the park on a windy day and fly a kite. Some people like to take their dog (or your retarded cousin) for a walk around the block. Some people like to touch themselves while thinking about your retarded cousin.

What do you like to do? Something I like to do is write absolute nonsense on the internet, and have people read it. You’re reading it right now. That means this piece of text-based inter-poop is just for you. That totally makes you special, right? It sure does. You should go and have a gingernut, you special, special person.

Another thing I like to do is hate. For me, hating is nothing personal (so please don’t be offended if you’re a member of one of the groups I hate, i.e. everyone), it is merely recreational and a way to pass the time.

You’re offended, aren’t you? You’re totally offended by the fact that I hate you. Well fuck you, you over-sensitive ass-knuckle. I don’t get offended when you put on that ugly shirt you like (you know the one I mean) and dance around like a gorilla with jelly on its nipples, so how dare you get offended by the fact that I hate you?

In fact, your ugly-shirt-jelly-nipple-gorilla-dance turns me on. I don’t know why, but it just does. Deal with it.

Your Retarded Cousin

One thing that offends me that you do, however, is whenever you go out into the street with your little book of imaginary friends, and tell people (i.e. me) that they’re (i.e. I’m) going to this charming little place you call hell… or heck… or Alabama… or whatever you’re supposed to call an imaginary place filled with fire or demons or whatever you think is there.

You’re being stupid and I hate you.

Okay somehow I turned this (excruciatingly) pointless message into another of my nonsensical anti-religious rants. Damn you, Buddha-Allah-Jesus-Muhammed-Krishna for making me do that again. You’re such a crafty little rat. That’s right. A rat. Deal with it.

I’ll be over here drinking my hot chocolate.

Some people like to cook and eat other people for dinner. Please keep doing this. There are too many people in the world, and many of them are hungry. Where some see two problems… I see one solution. I’m a thinker. It’s just too bad that most of the time, I’m thinking about boobs.

Tell me what you like to do? If you do a really interesting thing, I may give you a prize. The prize will most likely be crap, but it’s the thought that counts. Unless somebody who is going to rape/murder you briefly thinks about NOT raping/murdering you, then does it anyway. In that instance, the thought didn’t count at all. That thought was about as useful as square wheels on a tiger. Or any wheels on a tiger.


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