I think I should like to have my medial orbitofrontal cortex removed.

Tired of regret? Become a leison patient, and you won't have to deal with it anymore. I think I would be ok with that, but then again, I don't regret that much anyway. I'm trying to determine if i regret anything at all, and i think not. While I wish some things may've ended differently, it was worth the experience anyway, so I won't say I regret it. I just learned how not to do something in the future. I still stick my foot in my mouth on a regular basis though.

The doorbell rings

I returned from work around 6.30 this evening and put in a load of laundry, then quickly began relaxing. "Time is of the essence" (excuse the cliche usage), but doubly so anymore. About 2 hours later, someone began knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell. When I answered I found two pre-teen to early teenage girls standing.

"I know this is going to sound really weird," says one girl, "but do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Sure," I agreed, though somewhat hesitantly.

"Do you have anyone 18-21 living here?" she asked.

"Uhhh... I am," I replied, thinking they were wanting me to buy cigarettes or something.

"Ok, well, here's the thing," she said, finally beginning to reveal her true intentions. "I have a friend who lives a few apartments down and she doesn't know we're doing this, but she hasn't been on a date in a really long time and I was wondering if you would like to go out with her?"

She took a breath after trying to fit that all into one quick sentence.

"I don't think I could do that," I muttered, coming up with whatever I could to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. "Sorry," I said, as I slowly closed the door.

Pass it on story time

A couple weekends ago I was sitting at a pub with some friends listening to a local band [The Bogtrodders] and a few of us decided we needed to go the extra mile and multitask while taking in the sounds. So we played that time old game where everyone writes a bit of the story and then passes it along to the next person who continues, etc. Four of us alternated turns writing, and below is the fruit of our labor... (thanks to aaron for transcribing!) The skipped line means the turn changed and the next person began writing. I'd color code the entries by author, but that woudl take too much time, and if you read closely you can analyze the style;)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The

Jesus <3s Winners

and everyone else hates you

and then I was no longer infected. The End.

But I was still saddened by the abnormally lame wart on your face

Then a giant happy face hopped up along side me and told me about his 90 year old mother who was still practicing S&M with her 23 year old boyfriend and the wart didn't seem so bad.

But it was to late for the wort because the magical elves from osu came and lopped it off. And then...

used the wart to summon an enormous tomato from the neitherworld

which was not unlike that of which a tomato of the Edwardian count of the late 1600s would have all but sold the crown to in a fit of hostile rage.

But I was still sad for the wort and munchkins forced to work in the wizard's chinese style sweat shops.

And, oh how they worked. Their little hands toiled all day long ... 50 of them and at the end of the day all they had to show for it was a single UP elevator button. (Illustration of an UP elevator button) they couldn't make a down one. Those were make in the Phillipines.

But with this button they rallied a union of elves and munchkins to overthrow their dominatrix-styled middle managers by using ...

yo yos. It was a long bloody struggle and there was string and blood and really really funny shoes everywhere!

So many shoes that flaming franks shoe-dar went off and all of the sudden there were so many homos fighting over clothes you would have thought it was wedding dress day @ Filene's Basement

which is a nice, neat store at it's home location in Boston, but in other regions is not akin in the most obvious way to being a regional clothing Big Lots.

This part of the story was lost due to bad handwriting amd it's loss is deeply morned by all the Angels and muses. Oh, woe to the lost part of the story.

When the dust had settled and the ground was strewn with the dead and dying munchkins, elves, homos, and dominatrixes a lone figure emerged from the rubble, he would hence forthe rule the land with justice and virtue. His name was Hermy and he...

lived happily ever after and made lots of babies. The End. Hugs + Kisses.

(we ran out of napkin and had to end the story here, to the chagrin of many)