She may have a point.

Finslippy = totally, totally overrated. She doesn't post much, and when she does, it's just about how crazy she is. --comment from a message board.

April 24, 2009

Dear Internet, today someone sent me the above commentary. Thanks for that! Something about me seems to shout to readers, "Let her know how much she is disliked! She needs to hear it!" Actually this particular comment didn't bother me much, because whenever anyone says I'm overrated, it means plenty of other people think well of me, so whatever. Who cares if one person dares to rebel against the masses who mindlessly follow my every word? Kudos, I say. You keep thinking for yourself.

I'd write more about that whole "crazy" nonsense, but my congressional representative and Marlo Thomas are RIGHT NOW scanning my hard drive, which they've accessed via the crawlspace above my closet. I can feel them in there. "Free to be you and me," my ass.

June 3, 2009

Sorry I haven't written in a while, but it's so tough with Keith Olbermann living in my spleen. Plus do you know how uncomfortable that is? He's bigger than he appears on my television. I have no idea how he magicked himself out of the set and finagled his way into my organs, but there he is, and he's not coming out until it's Countdown time.

December 35, 2009

Oh, the despair. The agony of breakfast. My child just smiled at me. Or was it a sneer? I try to eat cereal, but how can I when this spoon hurts my very soul? Its concave reflection mocks me. Why, Internet? Why?

April 4.2 2010

You know what! If I scrub my walls really hard the bad feelings go away! ALSO: ONLINE GAMBLING IS GOING TO FIX EVERYTHING. I figured this out just in time for my big shopping spree. I'm sorry about all that identity theft, by the way. I'll make it up to you when I'm a quabillionaire!

August something, the year of the Coming Eternal Nightfall

Hey, would you guys mind donating to my PayPal account? I urgently need 53,962 500-foot-long rolls of aluminum foil. I'll tell you why later, but it will probably be too late.

Slorkester 44, the year of Ba'aaalalal

They have provided me and only me with Internet access, because I had the foil. The rest of you can only roam the desolate nightscape, crying out for WiFi. All posts from now on will be invisible, unless you are pure of heart. (Don't even try, Marlo. Don't even try.)