The Red Pill

So... this is blogging. So far it seems a lot like homework, but the knowledge that there won't be a grading system involved here provides me with the slightest sprinkling of Christmas Elvian joy. Also, in case you are wondering whether or not the word Elvian is a real word, I implore you to please visit any of the magical, wonderous lands wordingly painted by the great Snoop Doggie Dog, and then question the authenticity of my wordish again. Yes, wordish. As in any dialect consisting of verbians, noun-tonians, and plain old slangarangs.

The idea of blogging is one that has been presented to me on a number of occasions. That number being very small... so small that to type it on this page would not be worth the time spent to do so, nor the time it would take for you to read it. But none the less, it has been mentioned. So I figure I might as well give it a good ol' shot here.

I wish I had a grand story to share with everyone for my very first blog. (Hahaha, pretty sure "everyone" in this instance translates directly into "myself") But sadly the fact of the matter is, it's late. It's late, it's late, and I'm late for a very important date. <--- Not true. I mean, it is late, but there is no date. I mean there is a date, it is 12/22/2010, but it's not MY date. Just simply THE date.

Speaking of dates, I believe that I secretly, royally hate them. Not only the kind of dates that old people eat in an attempt to make their booty burps smell as horrendous as possible, but also the kind that two people go on in an attempt to make their lives somehow more enjoyable by introducing the complexities of the opposite sex, or in some cases the complexities of the same sex... regardless the combination of two people and sex seems to result in the, ever unavoidable, bitch that is complexity. And I'm sure not giving up sex!!! So, I guess maybe that means I should give up the people part. Build a cabin in the woods, live off the land, kill my dinner with my own hands... wipe my backside with the same. Just me, and my beloved Lambchops.


Society wouldn't approve, but DAMN IT!!!! I LOVE HER!!! And if Romeo and Juliet has taught us anything, it is that you cannot put an age on love... and are differences in age really more acceptable than differences in DNA? Yes, absolutely yes. And that is why I will NOT be building a crappy cabin in the cold, dumb woods. I will NOT being living off the land, the land doesn't even have basic cable!  I will NOT be killing my dinner with my own two hands, I will pay someone else to do it for me. Same goes for the wiping of the backside. I am aware that that is extra, that's fine... I enjoy the finer things in life. And I will MOST DEFINITELY NOT be doing any of these things, or any other things, with a beloved Lambchops. I hate you Lambchops! I hate you, and I have never even met you. The very thought of your existence fills me with a boiling anger that would put the once mighty Rob Van Winkle to shame. The End.... F U Lambchops... F... U.