So March, huh? I don't have a lot to say about March, really. I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't kind of glad it's here, if only so that I can tear off the blood-stained, grease-stained, scribbled-on calendar page from my desk blotter.
And there’s St. Patrick’s Day on the 17th.
And shit—I just noticed that time changes on the 8th. What kind of sick fuck government do we have that moves up Daylight Savings Time? Dammit. That pisses me off so bad. I thought I had at least until April or May.
Well, no use dwelling on it, I guess—just one more reason life sucks. I think I’ll just print out a picture of a vagina and tape it over that day on my blotter, so that I won’t be enraged every time I look down.
I’ll show up to class an hour late on the 9th, “So how did you guys celebrate?”
“Celebrate what? Daylight Savings?”
“What? No! Enormous Clitoris Day, silly! It was marked on my calendar. I dressed up like a vagina and went out asking the neighbors for candy.”
“So you spent the day in jail?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
As far as The Strangelands is concerned, I guess we’ll just keep plugging away. I vowed to cut back on my drinking, but between St. Pat’s and Daylight Savings, I’m pretty sure that that isn’t going to happen. So hooray for those of you who love incoherent drunken rambling.
I’m thinking of writing an article full of parenting tips, so keep an eye out for that. Things like how to put the most sting into your backhand, and how long to rub their nose in the urine puddle when they wet the bed. Useful stuff.
Also, there will probably be a lot more pictures this month, as I have some stuff to show you, and that keeps me from having to write shit all the time.
And that’s it.
Welcome to March, Strangelanders—it ain’t lookin’ good.