This game combines three things I love the most: amigos, glorious mustaches, and Star Wars. Since I don’t have any amigos, and my facial hair is a punchline of many family jokes, I will just lie on the beanbag and watch Star Wars.

If you don’t know what Bonanza is, you better Bing search it, or watch a clip on that tube site, or listen to a soundtrack on Napster- or whatever you youngsters do today on your Motorolas.

I decided to perform a heist so I can afford an iPhone 7. I can’t wait to listen to my music while training for the marathon, and not worry about those pesky wires. Or listen to a recording of women grunting in the gym while fondling myself, and not worry about those pesky wires. Whatevs.

I asked my neighbor how was her Labor day, and she told me all about the day of her labor. I am extremely traumatized. If someone asks you do you wanna see their perineum, I can tell you it’s not an exotic plant and it would be wise to casually jog away. In other news: this game is so old it has a link for you to put it on your Myspace profile.

It’s hump day, fruitcakes! For people who work that means they’re half way done with this week, and for the rest of us it means we have to hump stranger’s leg and reevaluate our lives.

Lately I’ve decided my work week is too long so I started working only Mondays and Tuesdays and half day on Wednesdays. Basically, I have adopted a government employee schedule.

I’ve been through a dangerous adventure myself yesterday when I did my annual toenail clipping. First I had to bend down, then I had to find an appropriate tool for the task, then I had to drive myself to the ER due to the 3″ gash on my face caused by a flying toenail.

Bad news: this game requires registration. Good news: you can just put in something like sirfartsalot@fartindustries.com. Weird news: that actually is my email. So yeah… email me, I’m pretty lonely.

Save the bunny, or, you know, just let him die on purpose about 74 times in a row because you’re a sadistic pig. Whatevz, your choice.

Wazzaap, fruitcakes? Fa shizzle it’s tyme ta play some Fillz- what ‘chew thinkin’ man? Yo gots uh great weekend an’ don’ hurt yo’self!

I have a condition in my mouth called molar opposites. It’s hard to describe exactly what it is, but maybe it would help if I say it looks like a rabbit from Donnie Darko and Shane McGowan had a love child.

This title pretty accurately describes my whereabouts throughout my teenage years.

Meh, just add it to the list with the other things I broke and charge it to the room after I check out of this hotel called life. *Friday moroseness*

Reminds me of the time my mom wanted me to go to therapy, claiming that the death metal music had made me very angry. Little did she know that in reality what made me angry was having a tiny penis and giant bacne.