2004-04-07 - 8:52 a.m.

As an exercise in either masochism or unadulterated narcissism, I have decided to take on an experiment. This experiment is to see how many textual records of my existence that I can maintain simultaneously. With the revival of this, it will be three. Three. Three.

Of course, I have gigantic term paper due on Monday that I haven't started yet.

Anyway, to kick things off, and so you can see what you were missing, here is a little mleep that I wrote in composition class a few weeks ago. Apologies to either Noah, Chris, or Mike (or any of the combination thereof) for the theft of their frigid hobo cadaver. They're all kinda the same when it comes to this nonsense.

The best advice I ever received was probably, "Don't touch that frozen hobo cadaver. You don't know where it's been."

Remembering that piece of sage wisdom has saved me in the numerous occasions on which I have encountered a frozen hobo cadaver and have been filled with the urge to make it pose or do the hokey pokey.

I have also learned, through trial and error, that this advice applies to most cadavers, not just hobos. Clown cadavers are quite dangerous, as are pony cadavers.

In conclusion, playing with cadavers is, generally, a bad idea. In the event that the cadaver becomes a zombie, they will remember.

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