Hey speedboats, can we jam on this for a moment?

what am I doing on my pants?

Can you see how far he is from the actual keyboard? Do nerds need new ways to masturbate and type at the same time? Also, “Built into the knees are a pair of crotch rocking speakers, around the back you have the added convenience of a back pocket for your ‘mouse’”.I think we can safely talk about computer mice without quotations, Steve Jobs is bald now.

Today I mentally communicated my mutual distaste for a passing rollerblader with a long-haired homeless man standing on the opposite corner of the street. I am here to tell you that ESP is real, and it feels benevolent, thrilling, and smells like a dumpster full of old feet. Welcome to the unused portion of your brains, everyone.

Though my mother says the l in salmon, she makes an insane dish with some sort of dill mayonnaise sauce coating the pink fish. God, it is so good. Because I am not eating it this second, I am worried that it doesn’t even exist. It is too delicious.

Over the years I’ve managed to amass a modicum of charm which I keep stuffed in the hollow of my cheek pocketed in a small velvet bag. Unfortunately, I would say eighty (ninety five) percent of the reason anyone likes me is because of words. Whenever someone utters a rare word like terrestrial, unholy, or deuce, everyone around is all like, “Oh hey I remember that word. Man that word was great back in the day and hearing it today makes me slightly less unhappy.”

I just noticed that my socks match my shirt. All the way down to the sheen. There shouldn’t ever be any sheens associated with me.

What is the haps, Ovulax?

Sorry for not writing in my blog forever, but it has been hectic times. Here is a story about my life I would like to share with you:

There are a lot of stray cats in my neighbourhood. I know that they are an indication of poverty, or perhaps just a fleeting interest in cat ownership, but I have always appreciated their presence for some reason. Most of the alley cats in my neighbourhood are missing their tails. Stray dogs seem the likely culprits, but I have never seen any.

A few nights ago, I came face to face with the mauler. I stepped outside my back gate, and ten feet from me was an urban porcupine. He was enormous, much bigger than a small filing cabinet and totally unafraid of me. Instead of running, he just stared at me with those glossy black eyes. He was probably trying to control my mind, because I felt an overwhelming desire to bring him my garbage in tribute.

Why do I sit around on the hardwood floor of my living room indian-style all day yelling “YOU AIN’T GOT NO PANCAKE MIX! YOU AIN’T GOT NO PANCAKE MIX!”?

if you see me later, ask me about my Van Gogh joke.

I feel that there are not enough food items that include the word ‘BLAST’ in the title. Oh, to count the number of times I have stumbled across a berry blast only to be let down by its dull flavour. Berries can’t blast shit. Have you seen a blueberry? Really. Here are a few ideas for blast related products:

Kim Chee Blast
Sausauge Blast

that’s as far as I got.

hey blog, whoa blog. I know it has been a while since I have talked to you, the internet, so here are some ideas I have been thinking of lately:
-Teaching classes at the Learning Annex that are suited to my areas of expertise. These would be: Grilled Cheese cookery, Minutiae, Discussing the defining features of Bruce Springsteen’s face, Drawing a picture of a dog. If any of these things interest you, call the local community college and let them know I am free most weekends.
-A man getting so excited he can do a couple of amazing feats. These are 1. Playing a trumpet with his ding-dang, and 2. Tearing someone’s head off and throwing it into space, or just tearing apart a roasted chicked really quickly with his bare hands.
-A television special about Bears. Just like, a really good one, not in the vein of a Fox special, but maybe one where they train Pandas to sit around a table and have an English Tea service, or possibly just read an issue of Vogue (probably Australian Vogue). This is what I want to see on television.

I came home today around 4 to realize that I had no real ‘dinner-type’ food in the house; that category of food which you would qualify as being hearty like a firm cross-section of ham or a rotund turkey that has been basted in essential juices for a number of hours. Instead I made the fuck out of some pancakes, seeing as how they need only few ingredients to actualize. Do you want to know the secret to making awesome pancakes? Good because I am going to tell you:

The secret is talking really nasty to the dollops of batter as they are cooking. Saying shit like, “I bet you can’t wait to be slathered in butter and sticky syrup. You love being sticky don’t you? Yeah, you’re such a dirty, dirty flapjack” will ensure they come out fluffy and delicious.

Also the pan should be hot enough that it burns you severely when touched.