"Hey. Wait--I'll See You Next--Why Are You Stabbing Me?"

Don't you dare say this to me today or any time in the weeks leading up to the New Year. If, at any point you feel the urge to say, "I'll see you next year" to me, I promise you that you won't. There are two things that will happen as a result of you saying this to me. The first is that I may simply avoid you for all of 2006 as punishment for you being such a fucking moron. Besides, my life will be much easier without having to pretend that I like you. This punishment is reserved for family members only. The second, and much more likely result, will be that I will proceed to murder you as quickly and in whichever manner I deem most appropriate.

It is for this reason that I have rented a magician's coat so that I can dispatch of human life in as many interesting ways as possible.

Hopefully this is how my night goes.

"Hey, Kurt. I'll see you next y--Oh my God! Are those bees? Did bees just fly out of your mouth. They're stinging me. Oh dear God. It hurts so bad. I wish somebody would just finish me so I can avoid this immeasurable pain."

"Wow, those bees were crazy, Kurt. I guess he kind of deserved it. That guy was an idiot. I'll see you next y--Doves? That's awesome. How did you do that? Anyway, like I was saying, I'll see you next y--'Kali ma'? That's what that guy from Temple of Doom says when he pulls out people's hearts. Why are you saying--My chest. Oh, somebody help me. Kurt is removing my still beating heart from my chest cavity with his bare hands. Why are you all cheering? I--"

Sometimes I have to improvise.

"That was a cool trick when you pulled that guy's heart out of his chest. He really committed to it. He's still lying there on the floor. I have to go. The wife wants me home before midnight so we can celebrate together the way we always do: in one another's arms reminding each other how lucky we are that our souls have found one another on this huge, chaotic planet of ours. We'll probably hold our newborn son as well. Life is so wonderful. So I'll see you next--Ouch! I don't know how you did it, but you've pulled a full-size grandfather clock from behind my ear and now you're beating me to death with it. Why are you counting how many times you're hitting me? Ten. Ugh. Eleven--"

These words are me: "The clock strikes twelve, bitch!"

"Fine. I guess I won't see you next--Sunday." Deathed!

So I'm looking forward to tonight. It ought to be fun.

Year-end Retrospective!

People always do these end of the year things where they recap the highs and lows of the year, so here's mine.

My favorite thing of the entire year was a couple of weeks ago when I was having dinner with my mom and she said that people with Down's Syndrome looked "soggy."

That's all.

Interesting thought of the YEAR:
Toffee is what delicious would taste like if the word delicious meant "fucking disgusting."

My e-Hate Grows Exponentially!

There are some people that I only become aware of through random contact on the old supermation infohighway. And, as you can imagine, I learn very quickly to hate them. There is this one girl who I feel like epitomizes everything I hate about the majority of people (not just women) who are on myspace. It's all summed up in one picture.I know nothing about her other than looking at her picture here, yet I know everything about her.

• She loves reality television, especially shows like America's Next Top Model.
  
• If she lives near them, she loves to go to "The River" and "Glamis." If she doesn't live near them, she has been to their geographical equivalent in her neck of the woods at least once a year.
  
• She once gave a guy a blowjob at a frat party even though she had a boyfriend. She never told her boyfriend about it because she was "so drunk" and she "couldn't be held responsible for it--you saw me, Lisa."
  
• She makes out with other girls in bars so guys will pay attention to her.
  
• She definitely was in a sorority, but her sorority had "all the prettiest girls in it."
  
• She sits in the front of her college classes and makes sure the male professors learn her name so that if she's between a C minus and a C, he'll give her the C because she sometimes wears low-cut shirts.
• She can't do basic subtraction when it comes to figuring out how much change she should receive when she buys her smoothie from Jamba Juice. She just takes the cashier's word for it.
• She has hundreds of myspace friends, because it's not enough to lead on all the dorky guys who actually know her in real life, she decides to do it online as well. It wouldn't be so bad, but she makes sure to message them every once in a while using endearing phrases like "Sweetie" to make that poor guy think that she means it in a way that there's no way she actually does.
  
• But the biggest problem I have with not only her, but the majority of people who exist on the planet is that nobody ever questions anything. If somebody tells them something, they believe it. I'm not just talking about religious dogma, but everything. I hate to borrow a cliche, but they are cliches; they sleepwalk through their life. They conform so that they won't be noticed. They don't want to form an original thought for fear that it will go against what other people think and they'll become the outcast. It's this kind of person that constantly looks for the outcast and points them out to the others so that they themselves aren't the outcast.
  

Wow, that last point kind of got away from me. I think I kind of came across as one of those bitter outcasts, though I'm actually not. I like to think that I'm not a part of that societal structure, but more an observer of it. I guess what I was just trying to say is that there are so few original thinkers out there (I'm not including myself in this category as some sort of an intellectual revolutionary) that when I see the world filling up and overflowing with essentially useless, carbon copies, hackneyed, you'd-think-it-was-a-cliche-if-it-wasn't-so-fucking-true people, that it starts to grind on me a little.

I'm such a faggot.

By the way, my favorite thing about that whole picture I posted nine pages back is the caption that she chose to put with it: "Out of control on my 22nd birthday!"

"Help! I'm out of control! I've got a hat on and it's sideways! Ahhh! Somebody line me up another Irish Car Bomb while I make out with this chick!"

Interesting thought of the day:
Chewbacca had emphysema.

New Year's Resolutions!

It's that time of year when the virtual odometer of life starts back at zero for some people. Normally I'm very against the complete arbitrariness that is the New Year's resolution, but it was my resolution last year to take resolutions seriously this year.

The following are my resolutions for 2006 and beyond.

• No more bacon, cheese, butter, and steak "health shakes" to start the morning.
• No more mornings. Those start way too early.
• Start carrying actual money around to pay for things instead of hugs.
• Get in touch with lost girlfriends and crushes. This year, no more pictures of my cock close up with the phrase "I Miss You" sent as an email icebreaker.
• Wear more kerchiefs. Just wear the hell out of 'em.
• Bake a layer cake for Tony Danza's birthday. I will make him love me.
• Learn what the word "hepatitis" means so I can finally start telling people the great things the doctors have been telling me to let everybody know about me.
• Release new hit single "Blood in my stool (Love in my heart)" on iTunes.
• Write pop-up autobiography.
• Find, kill, and skin a midget. Wear its hide as a sign of my fertility.
  
• Give more "high tens."
  
• Stop calling everybody "my nigga." Especially Grandma.
• Become a werewolf.
• Realize that the Canoes at Disneyland isn't a ride if you have to actually do work. Rides are fun, work isn't (unless your work includes the word "Wheeeeee!" a lot).
• Paint a self-portrait of somebody else.
• While looking up "hepatitis," look up "oxymoron."
• Give a eulogy somewhere and include the phrase, "More pure than a glass of Papal diarrhea."
• Blink sometimes. It's not a sign of weakness and more women will probably continue conversations with me.
• Learn to be more intolerant of others.
• Become more decisive.
• Or don't.

What are you guys changing for the New Year? Are you all going to try to stop being so fucking stupid? How 'bout it?

My heretofore unwritten resolution is to completely alienate any audience I have. And use the word heretofore doing it.

Interesting thought of the day:
Not too many people know that the literal translation of the lyrics to the song "La Bamba" is a delicious recipe for salsa.

I Hate Comics 13: Triskaidekaphobia!