My Brain Smells Like Roasted Karma

Goodness, but it is freaking HOT here in my office, so hot, my hair actually melted yesterday while writing a post. Upon publishing and rereading said post, I then realized, to my horror, that due to the ungodly heat and humidity, my frontal lobe partially liquified as well. The post, as you can probably imagine, sucked swine testicles.

Apparently, one cannot write in a coherent manner when one’s frontal lobe is oozing out one’s left nostril -- shocking, I know.

So I immediately deleted the twatacious entry, gathered my hair in a plastic cup, ran downstairs to the air conditioned kitchen, and wept copious amounts of brain matter-laced tears into a tall, cool glass of iced hooch (does that answer your question, sweet Alexis?).

I have attempted to write something entertaining, really I have. For days and days, I sat up here and typed through the blinding, suffocating, disgusting, retarded, asthma-inducing squalor of my windowless, fan-less office, and produced nothing but swill.

So here we are, me in my once again sweltering box of hell, perspiration dripping from beneath my breasts and pooling into my lap, you reading the unfortunate offerings of a melting halfwit.

And for that, I am truly sorry.