I am short on midget jokes

...ok so that was a low blow.

Let's take a minute to consider margarine. I have long been on the margarines of society, but things are looking butter.

Yikes.

A moment of your time, please: I need to vent.

Yesterday I walked into a pickle barn, and man I felt alienated. It was horrible. Never Again! First, there were all kinds of speeches about pickles. Not that pickles aren't a great food, but you hear the emcee of a pickle conference start to go on and it wears on you. There were awards and speeches and the announcement of Pickle Gala 2007, and it all wrapped with a lot of pickle-related nonsense, ie "Give me Liberty and give me pickles" and "Let he who has no burger cast the first pickle" and of course the trump card of balderdash - "Life is like a box of pickles - you're gonna end up with pickle breath."

You see the kind of situations I get myself in. It's so apprehensive like a three-week buildup to a one-second sneeze, but if I learned anything it's how to adapt to postmodern vicissitudes. Great word, vicissitudes.

I was shopping last night at one of those 24-hour grocery stores, and of course I was whiplashed with epiphanies, thinking "so this is what the Jams & Jellies Aisle looks like at 2 am." I felt so po-mo I could snurgle. J&J, man - that bread spread wipes my blues away. Four-fruit preserves baby.

You ever bend over with your head between your legs and stare in a mirror so you can check out the back of your knee? I do that every two or three days and nobody has ever caught me.

I know a great word: Sluice. You ask me if I got a screw loose, and I just say yes, sluice.

A good way to make friends: return someone's affections. Also, be kind and gentle. Aw shit now I'm all mushy and sweet like sugary mashed potato diarrhea. Dangnizzle. Enough emo. Chatter me up with some testicle talk!