I've always been a bit of a klutz. Last week

I've always been a bit of a klutz. Last week I stumbled in my stilettos and tore a hole in the fabric of reality. It was a blue hole & the edges shimmered like shoals of tiny fish

in Barbados. That was when I was a Bicardi Model. That was also the time of my greatest victory of a rich ugly man.

Now, careful reader, you may ask how it was possible for me to be both a "Bicardi Model" and a "rich ugly man" simultaneously. We must return to the moral beginning of this saga

I was a good looking teenager (that's when Bicardi picked me up). I was 19 when they asked me to bbe their model. I took the job and became unbelievably rich, until one day

one day, I was encountered by the Grim Reaper, who said, "MARY LOUISE PARKER STACY CYRUS, YOUR SOUL IS MINE." But before I screamed, I wondered why the hell my name was so long?

Maybe my name was so long because my mother, Sara Lee Wilkes-Barre Hermione St. Vincent Murgatroyd and my father, Charles Philip Arthur George Monte Cristo Van Halen Cyrus

were both quite pretentious & insisted that I, their spawn, use all of their names. For tax return purposes, however, I had to create an acronym for my last name: WBHSVMAGMCVHC.

That's short for "William Borden, Highness Sir Vizir Maggot Arachnid Goat Masochist Clown Veteran Herding Cretin". Why anyone would name their child that way, I have no idea.

buy smartphones and tablets and gas fare to hang out at Walmart. It makes me want to diarrehea out of my huragauarhuahaguaghrughurg adpsplap plop.