Take 7 on this fucking stupid pointless blob.
I feel like a fucking blob.
The original Blob.
Running from The Blob is futile!
I am restless and sleepless and nervous and impatient and really fucking depressed and uncomfortable in too many ways and thirsty and numb and cranky and touchy and even more nervous and tearful and sad and lost and bloated and confused
and am a wee bit of a mess.
Whoomp, there it is.
I have no idea...
Looks gross.
I don't like.
I enjoy being cunning and sassy and sharing pointless witticisms with you, my dearest strange rangers, but I am drained and worn the fuck out.
I have not much in my stores to share- my silly cupboards are bare.
It's French, therefore smarter and much cooler-
than everyone.
Fourteen years have passed since I was in this particular predicament.
I am in a space of space.
Huh?
Really explore the space.
Gene, is that you?
I think I need more cowbell, baby!
In leu of More Cowbell,
I need funny movie or book suggestions, links to stupid pics and videos, random Schadenfreude, hugs, bottles of wine, chocolate, cash, paintbrushes, and a clue.
Actually, a real cowbell would be great!