Quintessential Paradigm of Absurdity

Welcome to the Dork Side

Take your Cursor! Strike me down! And your journey to the--aww skip it.  Welcome to mah blog, snitches. 

<This is me.
         Well, the dude is.  I am not boths of us.  I am wanted in 5 countries, banned from 3 more, legendary in 42 states, was declared an illegal substance in Texas, and killed a bear by flexing my nostrils. My DNA is the international reference for the color red, I snore in sonnets mistakenly attributed to Shakespeare, and when Sotheby's had my used kleenex up for auction, the resulting riot lasted for two weeks.  
       I invented Mount Everest, Pokemon, and the color puce, am immune to embarrassment and most forms of pastry, explored the depths of the universe before lunch.  My fingers have built coliseums, pyramids, a toothpick model of Napoleon, and picked more than a few noses.  My snot is used as fuel for warp drives, and my spit can cure cancer and depression, and my tears have been declared weapons of mass destruction.  Superman decided to wear red only after he saw my hair, and stole my nick-name for his super-ego (a little Dr. Freud joke there... If you got that, then you are pretentious. If you didn't get it, there may be hope for you,) I can swallow an alligator and spit out a designer purse with a zipper made of diamonds.
        Just my name is so poetic and musical that it spent a month at the #1 spot in the billboard charts, and is a constant New York Times Bestseller.  I am Danny Potter.  Honest.

And yes, I know.  I use some... strong language.   

Not e'erbody can handle it.   So if you can't handle words like "Freakin,"  and "schpuntz," and "poopy," and "omiholyfreakinmotherofeddison," then you best be done, son.  'Cause I am not afraid to get real.

Also, I wrote this today (deep, I know.  I even surprised myself,):  

 "I don't mind talking to myself. Honestly, I don't even mind getting into arguments with myself. It's just that sometimes I get so bull-headed and a bit too heated, and then I say something really hurtful to me, and storm off in a huff. (I'm all like "Whhhhhuuuuut?" Ref picture at right,)  Then I go through the whole ordeal of trying to make it up to me. It's hard, because at first I'm refusing to talk to me, but what worthwhile relationship is doesn't take a little work?

 So I buy me flowers, and leave little surprise love notes for myself, and finally I win. Heck, I'm just so cute; I can't stay mad at me forever. The only real problem it presents is when I'm sitting in a crowded room, and I crack a joke to myself and break up laughing. Honestly, people look at me as if I were crazy."  

        And I don't get that.  

        I'm not crazy.  

I mean, I can neither confirm nor deny that somebody may have given me caffeine.......   

        ......But I'm pretty sure it didn't do anything anywa---look, something shiny!