Monkeys and keyboards aside, one Random + CSS still doesn't make poop.

Dragging this out because it's suddenly become more pertinent . . . ( Hideously unoriginal YA authors are sandbagging each other! I mean, sticking together! )


The question remains, though: Is this flood of irony uproariously hilarious, or stupendously depressing? I'm leaning towards the latter.

Buying my first pack of cloves left me feeling very much like I did when I bought my first pack of condoms: a little self-conscious, a little unsure, and very much with the overarching sensation of doing something not-quite-right.

Taking a hit off one is very much like taking hits off a super stick of incense--and now I smell awesome. Is it strange to like the smell of them this much?



I also just completely copped out on my costuming for Saturday. Cheap & easy has never held together so well--though it completely squishes t3h b00bs. :D