Help! I've been overcome with the most awful feeling! It feels like I'm terribly alone in a world that cares only about my bank balance and that everything I've ever known and loved will eventually be reduced to ashes and forgotten about as soon as my decaying corpse goes cold. It's the feeling that no matter how hard I try, whatever I do will never be quite right, and even if I am satisfied with my actions, I can be sure in the knowledge that there are litereally thousands of other people who could do it better, faster and with less effort than me. The feeling that I am a miserable pawn in a game that not only do I not understand, but am unwelcome in where they dare me to raise my eyes, give to give them even the feelbest excuse before being thrown into the machinations of the cold, unforgiving, unfeeling machine, left to grease the ever-turning wheels of existance with my mushy remnants.
No. Wait. That's just adulthood in general. My bad. Carry on.
. . .
*Looks at a list of top 25 oscar-winning movies of all time*
*Looks at old blog post about turning innocent movie titles into porn movie titles*
*Looks at the list again*
*Looks at the clock*
Fuck it. See if you can guess what they are!
Oscar winners as they could have been (if they starred Ron Jeremy)
The Lord of your Ring: Return of the King(ky!)
No Cunt-ry for Older Men
The French Infection (A PSA about STDs)
My Fair Fiiiiiiine Lookin' Lady
One Jizzed over the Cuckoo's Chest
The Deer Hunter - A Story About Cougers
The Sound of Music to Get Fucked To
It Happened One Night. And The Night After That. And Every Night After That.
Gone in the Window
Lawrence of A-Labia
On the Water-Cunt
Her Godfather: Round Two: He's On Parole
the list just goes on and on and on and on . . . .
. . .
. . . so . . . uh . . . jesus, being funny on demand is hard! . . . .
. . . maybe if I just make ironic small talk people will think I'm comfortable with the situation. That normally works in the real world.
So! Stuff, eh? . . . . (wait for laughter) . . .
. . . crap. Doesn't really work in a pure text format where I'm standing on the rickety soap-box of my soul with a megaphone pressed to my lips pandering to a crowd staring at me like a performing monkey. Staring. Always staring. Judging. Waiting for me to make a mistake. To slip up. To ramble on about nothing until all that remains is a horrible feeling of inadiquacy and shame while desperately letting loose all the meandering, infinished bits of thoughts in the futile attempt to save face anAAAUUGHHITSHAPPENINGAGAINSHITCICLESENDTHEBLOGPOSTENDTHEBLOGPOSTENDTHEBLOGPOSTENDTHEBLOGPOSTENDTHEBLOGPOST
. . .
That's the end. Now go discover you're the heir to a long-lot civilisation unwittingly destined to bring about the end of the world and go on an international adventure with a comic-relief best friend and copy-paste hot woman while simultaniously running from a shadowy organised crime syndicate and after a series of increeasingly unlikely coincidences end up on the brink of the collapse of reality only to pull back at the last minute thanks to the stength of the human spirit and the power of friendship while destroying the head of the syndicate but not completely because you still leave a convenient opening for a sequel or something . . .
(p.s.The picture this week is fanart for this webcomic. It's awesome. Click the "==>" a few times to get a sample.
There is words too, just not at that particular bit.)
Happy Valentines Here's A New Book
2 months ago