Avant garde, no?

Damn.

Damn and blast.

I made a brilliant observation earlier in the day. Absolutely brilliant.

If I'd told someone, they would have jumped back in surprise.

They would have said: "Holy Fuck, Man! That's Fucking BRILLIANT!"

I would have blushed. I would have been modest.

I would have said: "Oh, it's not that great."

They would have grabbed me by the scruff of my shirtneck: "Listen up, you fucking hack, you just made a brilliant observation, shee, and THAT is THAT."

I would have been forced to agree.

The trouble is, I can't remember exactly what it was.

When I tried to remember what it was just now, the only thing that popped into my head was this: If Andrew Bolt was a gay porn star (entirely within the realms of possibility), his stage name could be Mandrew Bolt.

He wouldn't even have to change his stationary. He could just draw a little M on the front of everything.

I think it's safe to say that my BRILLIANT observation is lost to the Ages.

I'm sorry, Ages.

In other news, I conversed with Evan Terry (ET) via the MSNs yesterday evening.

The conversation went a little like this.

Me: Sup BUDDY?
ET: nm, mofo.
Me: Word.
ET: I'm writing another piece of CamFic for your site. It's all about you and these saucy broads. Amazon women, you know.

On that note, I decided to check my email. Doodeedoodeedoo, I said. That's my email-checking mouthnoise. Bompdebomdebom.

4 new messages!

Holy Crap!

Let's see... well, the first one was one from Leigh that I'd forwarded from my ultra-top secret KGB account.

Then there was one from Great Rate, telling me about a Half Point Drop For Homeowners.

Then there was one from Sexy Lingerie, telling me about Vibrators To Warm Up The Cool Nights.

The nights are already kind of warm, I'm afraid, Sexy Lingerie, it's Summer, you know. (Yes, yes, I know about inter-hemispheric seasonal differences. It was supposed to be a joke, only it wasn't terribly funny.)

And finally, Heather Buzza had an Interesting Read.

"I'm sure you do, Heather, you goddamn spam monkey", I screamed, and I lunged at the delete button.

But at the very last second, Jesus appeared and knocked me onto the ground.

"Jesus Christ! It's Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed.

Jesus said to me, "Listen up, fool. I don't really know why you've dragged me into this whole mess. Why don't you just say that you decided to give Heather Buzza a chance, instead of dragging religious figures into it, presumably for comedic effect?"

Hello! It's a continuing theme of self-deprecation!

Anyway, for whatever reason (I'm fairly sure it was all the Zs) I decided to give Heather Buzza a chance.

Hello! It was a REAL letter from a REAL person. Not only that, it was a letter of appreciation. My first real fan mail. I felt warm. I felt fuzzy. I felt synonyms of both warm AND fuzzy.

Then I was obligated to reply by my politeness, which was difficult, as I'm paradoxically both very modest and a raging egomaniac.

But the point is that I got the job done!

How obvious is it that I have no idea where I'm going with this?

...

And in other news, check out Diary of a Baby Killer's Baby.

On a scale of 1 to Fascinating. 1 being not fascinating, and Fascinating being 10 which is very fascinating, this comes in at 11.

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