Monthly Archives: November 2009
THE END. Bitches. Advertisements
OH FUCK! POORLY COLORED PINK HANDSOAP! SWEARBOX’S ONE WEAKNESS. IF THAT SHIT GETS IN HIS MOUTH HE’LL BE GODDAMN POWERLESS! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENS NEXT? FUCKING FIND OUT TOMORROW IN THE GODDAMN CONCLUSION, ASSHOLE.
PART FUCKING 3, BITCH. WHAT THE SHIT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? FIND OUT TOMORROW.
A dumb one-off continuation of yesterday’s JOURNALIN. Because nothing really happened today. Enjoy. Also:
Ever wish you had an actual marketable set of skills? In addition: HAPPY 46TH BIRTHDAY DOCTOR WHO
Seriously, I looked down while fixing lunch and was bleeding profusely. Fun, eh?
THEY WENT WRONG OH SO HORRIBLY WRONG I managed to break free of it’s starchy clutches. The creature’s contained… for now. fuck the truth. this is cooler.