was not his real name. It was, apparently, his pen name.
Although Matt had only had the name Matt for two years
it was the 50th anniversary of the name's existence, so he threw a party.
Yeah, I don't get it either.
I thought the whole thing was stupid so I went into the basement
where I met an executive from Google
and tried to get a job as an editor.
She told me I'd have to finish my schooling first.
Then I stumbled across two refrigerators
both of which belonged to himself, the imaginary boyfriend, the one and only ugly Australian, Mr. James George Thirlwell.
They refrigerators were filled with fans' food
and it was all basically rotten and spoiled inside.
Rather than do anything meaningful, I left The Jim a note in red pen on cardboard telling him that his Nutella was runny or some such nonsense.
Then, this one is from this weeekend, as well as I can cobble it together.
I was acting in a restoration play
wherein I played a lame-legged bum (which is true!)
There were also a couple of wisecracking jackasses in the play, comparable to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
I, the bum, loved raspberries (which is true)
and then stuff happened
and then I, the bum, saved the day by building a raspberry drying contraption (not actual size).
The thing had a wobbly leg and when pressed, I explained that since I, the bum, have a lame leg, so do all my devices!
Boy, we had a good laugh!
And then I, the bum, got the girl.
Thank you, thank you.
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