What bugs me about the internets, is why

What bugs me about the internets, is why do they call that thing a "mouse", and also, the fact that this computer thing doesn't resemble nor does it taste anything like an "apple"

but I guess that's what I get for being so easily confused, Heh, last time I wandered into traffic it was a real scene, wish you had been there. You don't need crack to think like

a teenager, just sitting in front of the TV getting pummeled by ad's will crazy you up like nobody's business. Why those ads convinced me that I was lacking something really

made me feel just terrible about my inadequate bosom. I feared that my boyfriend of seven years would see me as the flat woman I am and leave me for a more figurely woman. I picked

into two hundred-pound stacks for ease in benchpressing (sturdy metal bands binding each pile together). I sorted them chronologically and by title. Gratitude, you might wonder?

That word's on page 264. I had decided to read one of the dictionaries as I lifted the rest. I was working my body and mind (pages 37 and 682, respectively). But what of my spirit?

It longed for a workout alongside my body and mind. I decided to do 3 anonymous good deeds. First off, I arranged for a homeless man to get a job helping with maintenance at the

YMCA. 2nd, I gave my old suits to a Goodwill store. 3rd, I tutored some poor kids with their homework. To maintain anonymity I wore a stocking on my head. I became the PhantomGiver

which made me prime bait for the Phantom Tollbooth, which had raised its highway fares by an alarming rate that year to grease people trying to visit the interstate rodeo.