After viewing my music videos many people have voiced concern about my current mental state.
On many accounts I have been told that I need to get out of my apartment more.
And apparently quite a bit of people wouldn’t be surprised if I talked to myself.
The consensus is that I’m a loony.
Great. Just great.
First off, there isn’t anything to do in Portland. I mean…I guess there are a lot bums that I could hang out with. Actually now that I think about it there are enough bums for an organized sporting event. I guess thats a possibility.
We could play tag.
And no, we wouldn’t discriminate against imaginary friends. They are people too.
I tried going downtown one time.
I walked around for a little over an hour. The whole time some old guy was following me in his car. I kid you not. I even walked in circles and changed direction a lot.
Slightly disconcerting.
Even though he did nothing but follow me I felt sexually molested.
There are birds to chase.
Squirrels too.
Oh this is random…
I don’t know if its just because I live in Maine but…
My apartment has a lobster infestation. I swear. I’m constantly finding little claw marks on the cereal box corners.
Once I found a live one on top of my fridge eating my cheese nips.
I’m not sure how it got up there.
Before you ask, yes, I tried calling an exterminator to get rid of them. However, the receptionist told me that all the lobsternators were busy working on a large job in the ocean. I guess it has a much larger infestation than my apartment so it takes priority.
Figures.
To rap this post up I would like to address the accusation that I talk to myself.
This is false.
I talk to Bob.
I met him while I was doing the dishes one day.
He lives under the sink.
So shut up.
I don’t talk to myself.
i talk to Bob.
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