Hey,

Fuck. You.

How dare you be such a fucking asshole to my voicemail. That's what I get for listening to it instead of deleting it outright. I thought you were calling because you remembered what I was going through yesterday, but no, you were just calling to whine about how childish and stupid I'm being.

This solidifies it for me. I'm fucking done. Have an excellent time pretending you don't understand where this is coming from, and acting like you've done nothing wrong. You've been a complete waste of my time.

Important and productive things I have done today include:

-leaving a birthday comment on my friend's cat's myspace page

An Open Letter to Inferential Statistics

Dear Proportions that Won't Sum to 1.0,

Go fuck yourselves. You are breaking my fucking balls right now, do you hear me? I cannot believe you are being such assholes about this; it's not hard to add up to a reasonable number, is it? Well, if it is, you have a serious fucking problem, it's called YOUR JOB as a proportion so why don't you sack up and STOP BUSTING MY BALLS. I HAVE TO FINISH THIS BEFORE I CAN MOVE ON TO ANYTHING NEW AND I AM GOING TO HAVE A HEART ATTACK IF YOU DON'T START ACTING RIGHT

sweet baby jesus that's funny.

yes, give me a call when you understand what I'm trying to say, but can't find the words, because-- OH FUCK IT HERE JUST READ THIS JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY POEM AND SEE WHAT I MEAN


for my next act, i'd like to read a haiku:

retarded bumpkin
this is why i hate poems
find a new career

interpretive dance to follow.

hoosier legacy

LITTLE Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--
An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:--
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

Little Orphant Annie by James Whitcomb Riley

Sometimes I Love You Almost Too Much

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20

-robert frost