I am on a neverending quest, TO SHOVE AS MUCH TUNA INTO MY MOUTH AS QUICKLY AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.

And now, we will have a quote from Seven Is Darker - something he has actually said in the past: "Apparently I can't send you stuff, even with the "Send File" button. Because all of my stuff doesn't exist. I've been LIVING A LIE. IT'S ALL OVER!!! WAHHH! *sob* *choke* (sound of wrists being slit)"

I have now decided to add cryptogenic statements to the bottom of my blog. Because I am just NOT CONFUSING ENOUGH. I have heard that people walk away from my blog with a vague understanding of what I have said. THIS CANNOT CONTINUE. I want people to walk away dazed and confused like I just gave them a mental blanket party.

Interpol - Antics - Evil

7  

for now, the cucumber sandwich lives.....

Wow. I just had two Jolt Battery (r) colas this morning. I then promptly did two washes, vacuumed the house, did my tech and food shopping, updated information on my finances, downloaded an entire webcomic, and reorganized my desk.

Then I vibrated so fast I went back in time so I could watch an "A Flock of Seagulls" concert. I also decided to go further back in time and personally helped build the Temple of Karnac, in Egypt. Did you know back then that they had orgiastic rituals in place of what we would normally call Christmas? And Spring Solstace? I've now made it a point to go back in time at least twice a year.

Also, by sheer will, I altered the probabily ratio of non-existence to existence to such an extent that I literally forced a dragon into existence. However, I forgot the part about civility and intelligence, so this is why I'm posting from the local library, and not my (obliterated) place of residence.

Because of my newfound ability to use my mind to alter the universe, I have now reprogrammed all of your minds to accept that only the first paragraph actually happened.

Negativeformat - Moving Past The Boundaries - Prototype

7 _______________ <------Me running away from angry dragon.

Okay, this is going to confound you all. It most certainly has confounded me.

Apparently, "futures-tradingonline.com" has an RSS feed of my blogs. Yes, that's right, if you were to go to the aforementioned site, my first blog post up to my "*anger bread*" post is clearly visible. It starts on page 8 of "www.futures-tradingoneline.com/blog/checkatone/5/7.html", and goes on until page 14.

Mommy, I'm scared, why do these people want a raving psychotic's blog postings?

The Cure - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me - A Thousand Hours

7

Sometimes I sit here thinking, "What to write?! What to write?! Deadline!! Deadline!! MUST.....THINK......HARDER......"

Eventually you hear this wet popping sound and I go and get more caffeine. You can hear the seconds ticking by like an overamplified sound effect on a TV game show. And there by my computer stands the Editor with a KNIFE.

And all he says is, "It's time. PRESENT YOUR BLOG POST!"

I quickly bring up what I've written in my text editor. The tensest moments of my life creep on by as bloodshot eyes scan the lines of my work, the hand with the knife is TWITCHING.

He turns to me and says, "Do you realize what you wrote here?! You have it down that the next supervillain to face the Hulk should be a guy named 'Captain Quaalude.' And I quote, 'Captain Quaalude would be the only person capable of negating the raging Hulk by introducing record amounts of the drug he is named after, directly into the face of the Hulk.'"

The editor turns to me, with one eye closed and the other opened to grotesque proportions. "Do you want MR. KNIFE to make some COMMENTS about your blog post?!"

"No Mr. Editor With A KNIFE!"

"Then write something that doesn't introduce PAIN into my life!"

And that is usually what goes on behind the scenes here at Darker, Inc., producer of fine quality blog posts since December 2005.

Monty Python - Monty Python And The Holy Grail - Knights of The Roundtable

7

One of these days, I'm going to have to clean out my car's glove compartment. Because everything that I've ever owned and stored in that glove compartment has taken a life on its own, and yay verily, they have gone out on their own adventures.

But that only barely explains the gold-plated human skull in my glove compartment. I tried to take it out, but it seems to have adhered itself to my left palm. While this is almost totally cool, the gold skull commands me to do things.

Apparently, the human skull is roughly 1100 years old, and cursed with a terrible ancient Incan god-spirit. Being buried in the hot, steamy jungle of South America for what it describes as "aeons," and then being surreptitiously transported around the world - only to wind up in my glove compartment - made the Incan god-spirit considerably irritable.

So, having lacking an actual body, he decided to live vicariously through me. While eating, watching movies, and just generally running around downtown Portland in only a loincloth and war paint in the name of ancient Incan god-spirits is all fine and dandy, it takes a while to get them acclimated to the wonders of today. Like, explaining that antifreeze does not actually warm you up if you drink it.

I am fortunately free of the Incan god-spirit, as it forced me to wander into a stripper club, and it suddenly remembered the awesome, compelling force of NOOKIE. It ordered me to open the "Employees Only" door and to throw me into the girl's locker room and to then "descend back to my lowly mortal station in life."

All I know is that after fifteen minutes, I found the golden skull in the corner of the club, being stroked by several overly-mammilian ladies in thongs that were clearly too tight for them.

Well, I'm no longer an Incan god-spirit's right hand man, but I suppose that's a plus too. I really can't put that on a resume. And it would be hard to explain why I had to leave my job, and devote my life serving a gold plated human skull.

Depeche Mode - Playing The Angel - Nothing's Impossible

7