I’m trying to watch VH1. It makes me nauseous. It makes me want to become a suicide bomber and take out half of Hollywood. OH my GOD, I can’t believe I belong to this party. I have to get out of the burbs so that I know that VH1 isn’t real… because when you live in the burbs, it too closely reflects what you see, and you put yourself in danger of losing track of reality.
Yes, that’s right, people who live in the burbs. News for you: YOU ARE NOT REAL. YOU EXIST TO FILL PARKING LOTS AND WAL-MARTS, NOT FOR ANY OTHER REASON. THE COMPANY MADE YOU OUT OF COTTON AND RUBER CEMENT TO SUPPORT THE ECONOMY AND LICK BRITNEY SPEARS CROTCH ON POSTERS SOLD AT K-MART.
Maybe I move to an urban area and open up a little organic-ethnic food store and sweep a lot with an old straw broom and wear suspenders.
THAT’S REAL, MUDDERFOKKERS.