fiction is lying.

If my homie had not pointed it out, I wouldn’t have realized what was happening to my body.

Roid rage. I’m going to fucking kill you.

Not really. I can barely move, but hey if I don’t got the shakes like two hula dancers fucking.

Very sick. Headed to bettertown.

Fever-headed craziness.

Birthday was was Tuesday the 12th (Abraham Lincoln jokes; hat-tip Obama landslides). It was nice and I wasn’t sick yet. Goodness rained on my head and I am grateful.

But now yes sick days. Sweat it out.

I have finished a task so plainstaggeringly monstronormous that I barely can find words huge enough to describe it. The time it took from the initial involuntary beginning to the eventual completion, action item list tag, reorganization, collation, and cooldown exercises was approximately just long enough for me to have a child.

Somehow, the laundry just kept piling up, since I wear the suit to work I never need casual clothes. It piled and piled, and I kept not caring and not caring, and eventually the closet was dumping out into the street. So tonight I did the laundry.

I hate doing laundry more than almost anything. I hate folding clothes slightly more than that.

After putting away 904 plain white t-shirts, and taking a trip through the past few years of shirts completely forgotten, I am now finished. Also I put away more black work socks than I can hold with one hand.

Is it better to do it regularly and be annoyed often but only a little, or wait a really long time and being really annoyed all at once (of course the annoyance of having fewer wearable clothes is an added cost)?

New shows on adult swim this week are insane.

• Aqua Teen Hunger Force seems to be going on this odd journey with Carl and this new landlord guy, and the food people are nowhere to be found (they got cocooned I think). Carl is lured by the new neighbors, giving the episode the title “Sirens”. Lots of blood and innuendo.
• Tim and Eric erupts into a complete civil war. Steve Brule does a wine tasting. Full-on classic level of blood and puke. Honestly, WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN?
• I gave up the on the Boondocks a couple weeks ago. It was a very disappointing decision to have to make.
• Squidbillies is inhumane, excessive, all over the place, on fire, genuinely unpredictable, and covered in hair. uh, all to save Rusty from dyslexia I think. Lots of blood and burns.
• That Crook’d ‘Sipp was classically southernly uncool, but it’s a pretty interesting pilot with great art that I missed a while back.

All shows this week contain seriously fucking traumatic injuries. Lot of boobs.

Not the best week but certainly an odd theme. I am getting convinced almost completely that they do coordinate the creation of these shows to the small degree necessary for them to share overarching themes.

Do not watch this video from the internet. Don’t.

Mr. Pregnant wants nothing but to eat your children at tea. Don’t watch it.

Sometimes the music wants to punish you. Sometimes it could be a convincing argument. This artist is named after a serial killer.

(dumb mog)

As I previously mentioned, the follow-up to the discovery of the average of 60,000 thoughts per day per person is a sort of guideline to positive thinking (and potentially pseudoscientific methodologies). It’s an endless domino effect.

here’s that fucking song about it:

Push some positive thoughts into your head so you can be glad about them tomorrow.