Today, Darren has decided to take the day off and fight the Demon in his mind with a pitchfork and a small novelty baseball bat. Good luck, Dar! Until he returns, "Jeffy," Darren's psychotic pen pal will take over the blog. Enjoy the hi-jinks!
Hi, I'm Jeffy.
The exciting and challenging act of being myself requires that I take many prescribed drugs. Just like that crazy fat fuck Darren. After one of the drugs killed my boner, I became a serial killer in a violent, pathological attempt to regain a modicum of dignity and, in a twisted fashion, regain the loss of what I've come to think of as my "manhood." I'm not above having sex with a houseplant or piercing my nipples at home with a meat thermometer.
I wish I could eat chicken wings all the time. We all like them, but I really like them, you know? I'm a bit worried. I asked Darren what he thought, but whenever he comes home and finds me in his flat, he's all about dialing 9-1-1 with his fat little digits.
It is possible, but highly undesirable, to "fuck a duck."
My nipples are totally numb, so it wasn't a good idea, apparently. I'm sure it's temporary. In fact, one of my nipples rubbed off and fell out of my T-shirt near the Harvard Square T station, near the "Coop." If you find a nipple around there, it is so totally mine.
Can't be a lot of nipples just out there.
Low fat cookies are a scam perpetrated by an international cabal of Jews and Australians. The government!