. My parents went away on a week's vacation, and... wait, wait. Wait.
I out-rank Prince-level now.
.
Help Me, Bellgab. You're my only hope. No, wait. Wait.
Hang on. That's not it either.
I CAN DO MOST ANYTHING.
BUT ALL I WANT IS...
Whoa.
Whoa. Hold the phonE. Hold oN. Not thaT. NoT. ThaT. OnE. EITHER. Like,
Jesus. I'm getting flopsweat and a new constellation of little floaties THINGYS in my river-right eyeball. Here, have an anagram, that will in fact keep many of you busy.
Add just a skosh of Bombay Sapphire doors and maybe some Podbean HAL 9000 and it's hip-hip-hooray for somebody. Christ, who writes this {noun:shit}? No wonder they can't get anybody to do it live. I'm going to go throw up now.
INTO A JEWEL-ENCRUSTED TOILET BOWL, MOTHERFU— *clang clang ding clang ding*
It sounds exactly like you'd expect throwing diamonds into a sewer would sound. Look, don't sweat it. They're diamonds. They'll turn up. They'll wash up. Some of them may well even change color–washing out, They call it.
Like, permanently. Through chemistry. Doesn't that sound nice? Okay, moving on. Now, for the purposes of our discussion here, assume a Total Adjusted Budget of $55,555.17 kents.
Heh heh. Officially, I'm not a publicist—I'm The Beneficiary. Obvious lack of need is obvious. I'm fine. She's fine. We're all fine here.
Hi. How are you? Judgy, I expect. That's good. I like that energy. Start sharing your sugar-coated
suggestions with me. Me and my exultant
coterie of imaginary friends are simply besides themselves at a loss, with one burning question shrieking its way through The (X)osmos...
wat do? wat buy
1ST? Aboviously, neither a spell-checker nor a fact-checker be one such as I—One noT To bE TrIflED wiT
H—need contract with, nor does any shortage of publicity seem upcoming.
And I didn't G-ddam
want any in the first G-ddam place. {E.L.M.E.R.: “I'm not available.” *klik*} If you want to know the truth, I'll tell you what I wanted: bombs, shells, bombshells, all my drinks forevermore to come with those little paper umbrellas in them—I think that's classy—world peace, & a little whirled {noun:ANIMAL-or-VEGETABLE} once in a little while. And, a flying car.
I guess I can park it, just about, anywhere I want to now, huh? Oof da.
Okay, re-focusing sub-routine seems successful. I know
I feel refocused. How about you? Are you in AnY position to tell me what the f*** I'm supposed to do? Because I don't need to either s*** or whine my watch, but I can't stop thinking about either.
EITHER. BOTH.THIS
IS THE FUTURE
YOU WROTE.
I'm not gonna lie. It's not too totally terrible.
