Why, Hello There

It has been some time. According to my calculations, one year and several months to be precise-ish. In any case, I'm here now aching to write; to unleash my wordtastic fury unto the universe!

I turned 30 in June. Like most birthdays, I didn't actually feel anything when it happened. It just sorta... happened. Since 30 is considered to be a milestone (from what I'm told), I expected an event to occur within; something inside exploding or tingling or at least humming. Instead, I was quite happily in Michigan at S's parent's cottage (house on a lake), drinking a bottle of tequila with she and R. I didn't get bombed out of my mind, nor did spankings or other shenanigans occur. It was an incredibly beautiful day; warm, sunny, and spent in the company of true friends. We ate, laughed, and played games. This is in stark contrast to some of my other friends who are turning 30 this year, and on whose birthdays end up looking like this:

(You almost killed yourself turning 30! Great job.)













One of my very favorite new games is called Russian Roulette. No, not that Russian Roulette. This game was told to me by E, and since we share the exact same birthday, we share the same morbid sense of humor. We also share our kidneys, but that's another story. OUR (way better) version of RR is played thusly:

With your significant other, take a word or phrase and type it into Urban Dictionary. If, in the definition, there is a depraved sexual act associated with said word or phrase, you must do it.

Some of my favorites thus far include: peeled onion, pasta special, everlasting gobstopper, Rutiger, kitten pile, chocolate cheese, flea beard, spring release, ape call, special circus, foot pedal, bag of holding, yogurt cup, and The Rutherford. After playing Russian Roulette, you might get a terminal case of Face Freeze. If you do, simply look at this:
















I need to take a moment and clear up a misconception that I find appearing with more frequency. Unicorns do not have wings. They never have. They never will. As Earth's Ambassador to Unicornia, and with my very own unicorn BFF, The Good Sir Reginald, I'll have you know that there has never once been a unicorn born with wings. Why, you might ask? Why deprive a unicorn of wings? It's really quite simple: THEY DON'T NEED WINGS, YOU IDIOT. They have the power of flight, teleportation, and instakill from infancy. As they grow, their powers develop and multiply. The only time you will see a unicorn with wings is in the famous unicorn opera, The Pegasus Who Fell.

(The Good Sir Reginald as Angelo, The Pegasus Who Fell. NOT A TRUE UNICORN.)














Of course, you might say, "Why, if unicorns are so powerful, wouldn't they just hide their horn while portraying a Pegasus? Surely as we have prosthetic makeup to change the shape of our faces, they have something comparable?" You might be right, were it not for the fact that as I said before, YOU ARE A COMPLETE IDIOT. If you had a unicorn's horn, would you hide it? Ever? For any reason? No, you wouldn't, and neither do they. So just shut up and stop spreading ridiculous lies about bastard hybrid unicorn-Pegasus creatures.