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I'm here to make you forget that you don't

  • I'm here to make you forget that you don't believe in angels anymore.
  • Ever since I downloaded Facebook Messenger these strange messages about forgetting I don't believe in angels keep popping up and I have no idea who's sending them. I text my
  • Friend, who's a Facebook nut, and ask if that's ever happened to them, but they would know about as much as I did. Then, I returned to my messenger app, and the weirdest thing
  • is actually speaking to people face to face. It's gross actually. You can see their nostrils and hear them breathe. Sometimes you can ever smell their breath. GROSS! Bodies disgust
  • me. They make all sorts of icky noises and ooze all kinds of substances. No way. When I marry, it will be strictly by phone. I will consummate by phone, have kids by phone, and
  • commit adultery by phone, inevitably leading to divorce, also by phone. It's not that I don't seek human contact, well actually, I don't, I have intense OCD. I don't like contact,
  • I'm allergic to nuts, and I always use the Oxford comma. I'm proud of our family name, even though it is holding me back in my career. Just because it's "Splatterfest" doesn't mean
  • we're down market Smuckers-wannabes. We don't care if you buy the slogan, even though it is true. There are no nuts in our nuts. Even the yahoos in Cambridge know what I am saying.
  • The Cambridge lot drew together and burst into unexpected hiphop. "I say, you good ol' cha-ARGHHH." Charlie the Oxford Alligator feasted happily on their genitalia.
  • Charlie was chewing a scrotum when he choked. Alf the wren flew down his throat and retrieved it, saving him. Alf then broke the 4th wall: “Sorry. I know this fold makes no sense."
Started
2015-02-02 16:45:47
Finished
2020-03-14 10:20:49

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