They say confession is good for the soul.

They say confession is good for the soul. Mind you, they also say "many a mickle makes a muckle". Consequently, I don't have a lot of truck with what they say. Some secrets though,
some secrets should remain secrets. For example, I used to have six fingers. For example, I am plotting against the mayor. For example, I don't remember who these people in my
family photo are. I mean, who's the pimple-faced orange haired bitch? Or the creep in the bowling shirt. Or the Kid with super bangs...oh wait, that's me, but still I have no
way of knowing who my family members are since i got that lobotomy when i was 5. Hopefully one day they'll stop bothering and stop calling me for these family photo "opportunities"
before my years are up. But no, that lobotomy was when I was 10 not five. Having no brain makes me look weird in our family photos. That's why I hate it so much. That and the
hollow sound my head makes as I bang it against the wall. Were they capturing this on film, too? My family insisted that
I look at the camera while banging my head so that everyone could see the little bits of my brain falling out my ears. Before long, there was nothing left, and I
(well, what was left of "I" since, with no brains, technically "I" existed no longer - but I digress) - I and my special lady locked lips there in the middle of
the courtroom. But I was not satisfied. I wanted to see more...so before she sat down in her cute little skirt I had managed to super glue her seat. I waited in anticipation and
Started to giggle. I was spotted. 'You think you're funny, Elmer??' Try this, GlueGuy. She poured the glue all over me then blew on the feathers. Great, I'm going 2 b a bird 4ever.

Started: 2011-04-27 18:18:33
Finished: 2012-10-12 20:46:39

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