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Image by Aleksandr Slyadnev via Flickr

I came home yesterday and this naked lady was painting snail shells on my wall. I said "Hey duchess, I'm I pirate and your vandalism will NOT lead you to redemption!" We then found ourselves snorting Splenda for seven hours. "I guess your bonus went right up your nose!" she said. Then we drove around for an hour shooting deer with paintballs. She drank milk and threw up icecream. In the rearview I saw her moonlit on the highway, rave dancing. I saw her a month later and all she drew was ninja-turtles (still in the nude). I sent her a baby bird in a cigar box (there were holes). She sent satan over to my house to knock me down and kick my stomach and face. I wrote "The earth hums my penance." in indelible marker across her bumper. Even now, when I play my cigar box banjo, I whistle and chirp while I picture her hands emptying a loaded brush. (Everything sure seems like a crappy metaphor with a picture of a naked lady next to it.)

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Image via Wikipedia

It was a slow, painful process, becoming invisible, but you should embrace it now (as real life has nothing to offer you and you should merely see it as a sick joke). The first thing you will need is a guitar and a puppy with only two legs. (it's ok to laugh at handicapped animals because they like the attention) Feed it eye boogers and it'll do a flip. Wrap your entire car in bubble wrap and then you can nap on the freeway. Those bite marks mean I care. If you call Alf a Muppet, he'll rip you to shreds. A coma is just a comma in life. It was the perfect job for a shy, nerdy sophomore. Why do giant unibomber glasses look so hot on a girl? About a month ago I waved the white flag on my graphic novel. Blogs are the future!