I would like my XBox now please…

Hey, what’s in this bag I just noticed next to my computer? Let’s find out together shall we? Will it be a shrunken head? Perhaps a new toy? Boring stuff? The excitement is unbearable! So unbearably exciting that the reward can’t possibly be worthy of all this conjecture! All this mounting tension! I forgot what I was going to write about before this! A plastic grocery bag (now contraband in this city) tied at the top with a fancy smiley face on the front! Discovery begins now…

Quietly, now… musn’t wake the neighbors…

Why, it’s a discarded old electric pencil sharpener! Surely this can be put to good use!

DAMN STREAMING MEDIA… IT STARTS AND STOPS WITH THE FICKLE INDECISION OF A TEEN-AGED SOCIAL RETARD! One day, the internet is going to get what’s coming to it. Yes, sir. So don’t go storing all of your money on it just yet. He (or she) is cruising for a contusion.

Oh, right. NOW I remember. I was going to teach you all how to liquefy things with your mind. Unfortunately, now it is my bedtime and I will forget how tomorrow. The file is being transferred to my dreamstate-memorybank-robot-duplicate as I type th… uh… wh… um… hmm.

Don’t stop believin,’ and hold on to that fee-ee-ee-eeling.

NOTE to Future-Breshvic: Complications have arisen, though all advice has been concrete, alternate paths are now being considered. Growing instability from the pressure of multiplying factors is suspected. Difficulties continue to result due to inexperience in these areas. Perseverance and clear-headed good ole fashioned thinking on my feet will prevail. I hope.

P.S., how did the olympics turn out? you mentioned when we last spoke that you were concerned you’d overseasoned.

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5 responses to “I would like my XBox now please…

  1. Oh, not bad. The thirty-meter Mrs. Dash was substandard, but my party guests really enjoyed the velvet elvis long jump. But these apocrypha themes do so bore me. Ra-ther!

  2. Let me add a tip to that list of yours good ol’ pal:

    5. Self replicating robots do not dine on street corners of the meekly poor. Or is it poorly meek? Stop asking me for advice you stupid slut.

    6. I heard a story about a fat man who threw up on himself while coughing.

    • This too, shall pass.

      Some more ‘concrete’ words of wisdom (remembering that concrete to the likes of myself is but the gentle wave of wispy particles in loose collaboration):

      1: In the grand scheme of things, the following few battles are not that important. The margin of error is far to great, and doesn’t start to narrow until mid-February. If one doesn’t work out as planned, don’t linger on it, just move on and not only will I gain necessary experience, but it keeps me from getting too wrapped up in those petty failures with a constant barrage of new projects. Keep myself busy!

      2: The twenty-third, is it? December? My, how time passes. On Monday, don’t take the first streetcar home. Linger around for a bit and see where this gets me. I might want to wear a hat.

      3: Three is secret.

      4: Show confidence in everything I do. That’s the key to a winning strategy. Don’t defeat myself with negative self-talk.

      I see I’m reading the book I lent me. Who needs preorder when I have a me, eh?

  3. what the fuck are you talking aboot? Your blogs haven’t made any sense for a very long time.

    wierdo.

  4. Oh, not bad. The thirty-meter Mrs. Dash was substandard, but my party guests really enjoyed the velvet elvis long jump. But these apocrypha themes do so bore me. Ra-ther!

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