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I just want to say I'm sorry. I like this new Daily Dirt feature because it gives me a chance to explain to the victims why I subjected them to my update, and hopefully be forgiven for it. A few days ago I had a terrible dream about the circus. It had clowns cutting each other to pieces, tapirs running around with body parts in their mouths, and spiders jumping through flaming hoops. It disturbed me greatly and I had to call into work the next day so I could drink rum and play video games. I hate the circus, and had to go to one once as a child. The clowns deeply scarred my psyche and the animals looked really depressed. I perceived it as an evil place, full of lies and misery. The other part of the update was about the downtrodden women in my grandparent's generation. My grandfather's name is Norman and he expects everything out of my grandmother, even if she is no longer healthy enough. Regardless I like my grandfather, it's just something I see him do all the time.
A big thanks to my sister, Renee, who did the pictures for the update. She is a lot stranger than me. I know, it's frightening.
He's gay irl (in real life).
Hello! I bet you’re wondering why I’m writing in this Daily Dirt. Frankly, I’m wondering how I got suckered into it myself. That’s Reid for you - he sure knows how to treat his loved ones. You should see him during holidays: putting strychnine in our food; wiring up the Christmas lights so we receive a nice electrical shock when we come within five feet of the Christmas tree; and wrapping up the family dog to scare his grandmother. Yes, living with Reid is a bucket o’laughs, and he keeps me on my toes.
However, living with an insane comedy writer is not all poison and poodles. Reid is prone to suffering from bouts of depression and moodiness if his articles aren’t up to snuff. Also, since I proofread all of his articles, I am privy to what gets put down in his freeform drafts. Sometimes what comes out of this man’s mind scares me to no end. I can tell he’s going to be one of those old men who go around scaring children by making sock puppets with his penis and some electrical tape and then holding daily matinees.
In all, this has been quite a ride. I’ve watched Reid go from being a shy, timid writer to being... well, a shy, timid writer. Only now he has lots of anecdotes about unicorns and Ernest Borgnine to make himself feel better. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to go cry in the closet. It’s my happy place.
My wife is just mad at me because she thinks I care more about Bubba Fett than her. Oh cool only two more hours until the movie starts! Thank God for these diapers.
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
Ignore the hype. Find out how these games will likely go right or wrong.
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