(I figured that I should explain the following paragraphs to the readers, because as we all know, you’re all quite stupid and can’t figure anything out for yourselves. Basically, this was written at 3:00 a.m. when I was really tired and ready for bed. I decided to just write without thinking about what I was writing. Below are the ramblings of a sleep-deprived man. These are actual thoughts that run through my head, completely uncensored.)

Gristolpoik Abaram nida. Eschou siis grik. You know what that is? It’s me, typing in tongues. That’s what I do when I become so filled with the Holy Spirit. Hallelujah! Fuck shit ass cock! Sorry, I also have Typing Tourette’s Syndrome, and for some reason am unable to delete the profanity that I type. I’d get up and do something about it, but my legs are feeling strange, due to my Restless Legs Syndrome. I’d do something about that as well, if it weren’t for the depression I suffer from on a daily basis. Praise Jesus! He works miracles!

You’re probably not following what I’m trying to say in the above paragraph. To you, it probably makes no sense. It doesn’t make sense to me, either, and you know why? Because it’s something someone would write if they had nothing better to do at 3 o’clock in the morning. Because that’s what time it is here, give or take an hour or two.

If I had just one wish, it would be for all the seared cow flesh I could possibly eat for the rest of my life. Because I’m a carnivore, and I like to eat meat all the time, because it’s delicious. I hate spaghetti. The noodles are quite untrustworthy. They’re long and spindly, and I don’t trust anything that skinny.

I really could go for a double cheeseburger with mayo, ketchup, lettuce, onion, and tomato. No pickles though. Those are absolutely fucking disgusting. Well, not the spear kind. I just hate the flat round pieces of shit they throw on your burger by default. They’re absolutely fucking disgusting, and there’s absolutely no excuse for them to exist. Fuck flat round pickles.

I should really return my Netflix DVDs. It’s been, what, almost two months since I received them in the mail? That’s a bit excessive. And it’s not as if I’m actually watching any of them anymore. I’ve already seen them six times each. I should probably move on. Speaking of which, I should probably add more DVDs to my Netflix queue. I’m so fat.

Who was the first person to look at a cow, and think, “I bet if I squeezed all that shit out of that fucking cow’s udders, and let it spoil, I could make a pretty tasty treat out of it.”? I’m really not sure how to punctuate that sentence. Should I look it up on Google? Fuck it, I’m too tired. They can just fucking deal with it. I really hate it when people use the word Google as a verb. It’s not a fucking verb. It’s the name of a fucking search engine. Which makes it a proper noun. It’s not a verb. The next person who utters the phrase, “Why don’t you Google it?” gets my fucking knee in their throat. I bet kneeing someone in the throat isn’t nearly as fun as double fisting them. Fuck this shit, I’m too tired to continue.