ouais, j'ai mangé le miroir. et quoi?

Rhyme my letter backwards. One week mas. What’s it gonna be? Each week is always so different that I am excited to see what the next one brings. Moreover, the last week is often the best since I can actually speak the language at an acceptable level by then.

I have numerous dates with French peeps to trade speaking in French and English. It looks like I will meet a splattering of personalities. Yes! (I’m pulling down my fist with my elbow half-bent, really fast and with glee)….my first one is in 40 minutes.

Alors, je suis allè au musèe Pablo Picasso cet apres-midi. Freak. I like him.

Who peed in that one weed?
It’s a filth, filthy lie that urine helps plants grow.
Sodium bicarbonate…that’s good for my mouth.
Sodium lauryl sulfate…that’s bad for my mouth.

My children will most likely be very difficult teenagers, unless, I am a ruthless dictator from the very beginning and they expect nothing less. That means bleach baths and eyebrow shaving every other night.

I haven’t been exercising here. Can you tell? I’m not sure if I can tell? And that’s a problem, cause I thought it was REALLY important. This goes for sitting too. I really don’t know if I can tell a difference. Shit. What am I going to do then? I have to have something to believe in? Right? If God can’t at least give me sitting in silence and running, than that’s just bullshit. Could she really want me to not believe in anything?!?!

I’m like a helium balloon cut loose…they have to pop eventually? Or maybe they don’t, I’ve never actually seen one pop when it hits the edge of the atmosphere. I bet it just keeps going till it reaches the end of Universe. Then, it waits for all the other balloons to slip themselves off the wrists of little children and live in the freedom/alienation of endless nothingness. Whoo! Come on guys. It’s fuckin great once you get used to the constant darkness and not being able to breathe!

I highly, highly suggest that everyone listen to Dr. Octagon more often.