December 22 Entry 21

My perfect house most likely doesn't have an exact picture, because for the most part it's just a small house. The only defining feature of it would be the basement. The basement would have a very narrow staircase leading down to it and a door at the end of the staircase. It would also have no windows and a small bathroom through a door near the staircase. It would have thick carpeting and a lot of pillows everywhere. There would be a low ceiling and a desk with a gaming computer on one side, and a big-screen HD plasma tv with whatever system or systems I was currently using hooked up to on the other side. There would be a few beanbags near the tv and a comfy office chair in front of the computer. There would also be an amazing sound system connected to both the tv and computer On the last wall their would be a sofa and a big bookcase filled with any books I put in it. Other than the super-basement, the main house would only need the bare necessities for survival like a kitchen and bedroom. (although I'd probably often fall asleep in the basement on the couch). Herm. I can't think of anything that would make that house more awesome other than to have a pool or genie lamp or something. I actually saw the basement in a dream I had once and I've had that picture clearly in my head ever since. Of course, the house in the dream also featured an ornate indoor pool with golden railing and marble columns.

December 17, Entry 20

TIRE! Nope. No randomness. I think I'll actually try to be serious this time. Herm... what should I write about? I think I'll write about someone named... Servei! Eh. It'll have to do. What nationality is that? I think it's a real name... Ah well. Servei was walking to the park one day when a GIANT BEAVER CAME OUT AND CHEWED THROUGH HIS LEG BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS A TREE! OH MY GOD! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Yes it did. Then Servei went to the hospital and and he didn't die but now he doesn't have a leg. So then he went back to the park in his wheelchair and he TRIPPED ON A PEBBLE AND HIT HIS HEAD ON A PARK BENCH! AHHH!!!!! So then he went to the hospital and now he has amnesia. So then he went back to the park because he forgot about all the bad stuff that happened there and he FELL DOWN A POTHOLE AND BROKE HIS LOWER SPINE!!!!! WHAT?! ON NO HE DIH'NT! Yes he did. So then he went to the hospital and now he can't use his other leg. So then he went home and had some soup and tried to remember stuff about himself. Then he fell asleep and his face FELL INTO THE SOUP AND BURNED HIM! Wow, I must have a lot of pent-up hostility for some reason... Herm. Perhaps me doth make too many bad things happen to poor Servei. Alright! I've got it! Then Servei went to the gas station with his no legs and his amnesia and his scalded face and bought a lottery ticket. He won. Hooray for Servei.

December 15, Entry 19

Today is the day that I'm bored so I'm just gonna write down any random thing that comes into my head. The Packers won last night. What? No. Some other stuff. Things that happen are things that are... eggs. Muffins have the power! This is what happens when things happen in the gregariousness. Weehoo! Quish. Quish-fish. Mrs. Wheatley's son says fish but he can't pronounce his Fs right and they sound like Bs. Ah... boredom. This is the time for lemonade! Man, this isn't even the same kinda random that my random posts were. Meh. Sometimes I like to watch things on the television! Television? Telemission! The mission here is to infiltrate the enemy base- WAHH! GRAWH! Foaming at the mouth! "WHERE'S MY WIFE?!" CHOMP! Hmm... is that offensive? I heard it on a video that was really funny. I apologize if it refers to something that can be considered offensive. Locusts! I do not enjoy locusts. They make noise that is loud sometimes. It hurts my brain-head. Ears. No head. Ears. Ears is different from head. I wish I had a genie with a million wishes! Bleh. Life is boredom. Katamari Damacy! Literally "Clump Spirit"! Isn't that AWESOME?!! No, no I suppose it's not.

December 1, Entry 18

¡Pie! Muffins are in Spanish like Toucan Sam is coco for Cuckoo Parts. The upside down question mark is the only gateway to the butterscotch jello that is my left head. The bile of her fear of carpets can only serve to empower the evil one's ceiling fans and their accomplice. The hamstring of doubt sweeps over my new bones made of tin foil like the fire of my recent swim in the oceans of the Gobi Desert. The dent of neverlasting life creases my construction paper in the cold, cold heat of the new microwave. Xylophone after xylophone I see in the parade of the Pope's llama stuck in its infinite pen of pudding. ¿Can it eat its way out? I am not the one to ask. If you must find the answer, speak to my dear friend, Jargel. He is the one. The one of knowledge. He knows the answer to the question. The question of streetlights and their nefarious hair. But will you dare to ask? Doubtful. You seem like too gooey a person to my aluminum eyes.