mantra

Out of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus: one morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him.

- friedrich nietzsche

wiki.dumper
magmozine
a.guy.site
bad.chinese.mama
jejune.net
a.cause.des.garcons
spit.on.a.stranger
sluggernaut
honeyee
zefrank
born.a.waterhead
diane.pernet
tribe.net
gallery.of.the.absurd
world.community.grid
smarty.pants
bradford.shellhammer
wonder.boy
ohlala.mag
julie.fredrickson
fashionologie

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i heard of people collecting stamps, and locks of hair from strangers, but have anyone collected pubic hairs? this would be interesting. upon meeting him, i would feign interest and fascination with his hobby, and just as he begins to open his heart and shares trivial facts about how it started and how he convinced people to part with some strands of their pubes, i woul break out in laughter, and spew hurtful phrases at him while pointing my fingers and taunting him for his disgusting hobby. then i would proceed to a five minutes victory dance, which consists of me wiggling nonsensically, and randomly throwing my limbs in the air while i kicked my legs to what may look like a cross between 'troika' and 'riverdance', after which i would stop abruptly and proceed to stare at him shedding his tears of shame and collect a drop for my very own collection that i dubbed 'tears of shame'. so far, i have 47. and counting.

i'm a sick bastard, but i never denied that. i like muffins.

posted by frau frump.

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