Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Don't Read The Previous Post

Ah, it wasn't that good. If you were considering read it, I have to advise against doing so. Trust me. I did not have sexual relations with that woman, depending on what the definition of "is" is.

Holidays just have an affinity for suckage. Allow me to explain; when considering which holidays to celebrate, I run them through a intricate list of criteria, which goes like this:

- Does anyone, in their right mind, celebrate this day? (besides the postal service)
- Is this day primarily celebrated by idiots?
- Does this day's celebrations revolve around nonsensical traditions?
- Is this day my birthday?

For the day to be worth celebrating, it must be answered in the following manner: yes, no, no, yes. Otherwise, it's a bullshit holiday like April Fool's Day. End of story.

I can only dream of the day when a religious figure reads this day's eulogy as I look around the funeral for chicks I can hook up with. Oh, it works. There's something about mortality that makes women want coitus. It's as if the corpse causes science and shit to happen, releasing chemicals that say "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE ANYDAY NOW, AND IT'S GOING TO BE ALONE WITH YOUR CATS UNLESS YOU HOOK UP NOW." and it says it in all capital letters because these chemicals are also obnoxious sons of bitches. Fucking chemicals.

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