1. I have spoken with Milksop, and he has expressed his intention to start a blog at some point in the not-so-far future. When this happens, I will make sure to link to it and we can all live in harmony together.
2. The magical hair product that prevents sex hair is calledI’m not making this upgöt2b glued. Below this title on the bottle are the words “styling SPIKING GLUE [water resistant] 4: screaming hold>spike, grip, chunk.” It is in a yellow bottle, part of the göt2bme brand put out by a company evidently named FatBoy. I swear, with this stuff in your hair you could stop a battalion of Panzers. Or of pansies, as the case may be.
3. In order that you might understand more clearly how phenomenally fucked up I am in my daily interactions with practically everybody I speak to and, in fact, with most people I don’t speak to, I am sharing with you a lyric I have recently finished:
I stopped by to tell you I’m not neurotic.
I mean, you probably think I’m neurotic,
Especially after what I said this afternoon.
I mean, you laughed, but I wasn’t sure you meant it,
Or if you were thinking, “What a neurotic freak!”
But it’s okay and you don’t have to, ’cause I’m not.
I came back to tell you I’m not obsessive.
I’m not obsessive, no, I’m not, I’m not obsessive.
I mean, sometimes, yes, it’s vital that I think a lot
About important things, like did I leave the stove on?
And what if you like me less than you did yesterday?
But that doesn’t make me obsessive, ’cause I’m not obsessive.
But you’ve been acting strange
Since that day three weeks ago
When I didn’t smile when you said hello.
I should have known that you’d get mad.
You’re just so fucking sensitive.
You take offense, you don’t forgive
Well, I’m not sure I want to live
At last I can tell you: I think it’s over.
I’m sick and tired of you making me crazy
When I am not the one who has the problem here.
If I’ve been anxious and upset and weird, it’s your fault.
But I’m starting over. As of today, from now on,
I’m going to a different postal worker to buy my stamps.