Something I’ve noticed from randomly reading back in both this and my old journal is that entries have gotten increasingly serious.
Mayhaps this is because my life has become increasingly serious, but it still makes me sad, because I don’t like to think of myself as an incredibly serious person…
Thus, I present to you a completely random and pointless entry of great power…
Apple piecake is fuzzy bunny happy poop in your mealworm gunk covered salmon veiled with yellow curry xylophones laughing quickly over the lazy dogma foxen. With boxen and oxen wearing soxen eating loxen. Or lox. Soundless veloceraptors screech lazily by the flower-infested cultural poignancy of walruses and film canisters overflowing with an abundance of absence. Over the painbow like dentists enjoy grabbing white enamel laced muffins from teapot kittens in the ceiling watching you masticate your badger badger badgers and mushrooms, but snake shakes should be drunk quickly or plain planes will intersect you and cause much incontinence in bed where pretty pink pillows pile precariously preparing popular preinsurgencies for the purpose of power of porposes.
APRICOT POOP!
Wheeeee(an hall).
G
R
R
R
!
Treat your mother…’s right leg because it’s filled with ANGRY. And beer, a female beer drunk by Ray climbing a mountain. In bed.
Frainbart.
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| I AM HAPPY! SEE MY BIG SMILE? |
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oooooooh my goodness Alan
I think you’ve covered the goofy realm of the next 4 years in a single post. :P
You should be hired to write random text for spam e-mails.
With lyrical styling like that, you’re also on your way to becoming the next Captain Beefheart. :-p