I scream, you scream, we all scream for no reason.

The baby downstairs in the apartment below me is wailing. Absolutely wailing. What is it’s problem? I am two seconds from marching down there and tossing it out into the grass. Has it no manners?

Speaking of offspring, after my numerous status updates about my gravy craving in lieu of the upcoming holiday season, I got multiple, “Are you pregnant?!” replies.

Are you serious, people? The things I would rather do than have a child are unspeakable. Absolutely unspeakable. Here is a sampling:

Things I Would Rather Do Than Have A Child:

1. Eat an entire box of 1 1/4 inch galvanized nails.

2. Lick an electric stove coil.

3. Make out with William Hung.

4. Meet Kate Gosselin

5. Swim in cow manure.

6. Swallow a sea urchin.

7. Sleep in an airplane seat for six years.

8. Give up chocolate.

9. *~*tYpE LiKe tHiS fOr tHe rEsT oF mY LifE.*~*

10. Fight Chuck Norris.

11. Eat nothing but bay leaves for an entire month.

12. Become friends with Tyra Banks.

13. Get stepped on by a horse.

14. Sleep in Central Park alone.

15. Drink only vinegar for 10 days.

16. Jump off my second-story apartment balcony head-first.

17. Get hit by a car.

18. Change my name to Izabelle Sophia.

19. Never be allowed to wear eye makeup ever again.

20. Bicycle across the United States.

21. Do a mustard-bong.

22. Staple my tongue to a maple tree.

23. Fill my ears with honey and spend the night in Yellowstone National Park.

24. Smash a beehive inside a small closet.

25. Get slapped in the face with a cheese grater.

The end.

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“I won’t be hard to find. I’m wearing a Darth Vader mask and I have a megaphone.”

iScream.

There is a child just outside the apartment below me just absolutely screaming its head off. It is making the most offensive, wretched sound I have ever heard come from a human being ever before in my life. It sounds like it’s on fire. Do normal people gasp with sympathy, “I wonder what’s wrong—I hope he’s okay!” ? Because I am wondering what I could do to end its life while minimizing any major cleanup or legal consequences afterward. If it would just stop making that horrid, dreadful sound. Until it ceases to project this detestable sound however, I am going to start brewing up death threats to call down to its parent-figure one floor below.

Why do children have to be so god-awful? Don’t they understand that no one likes screeching? Nobody wants a wailing, noisy child around. No one. Don’t kids want to be liked? Isn’t that why they start doing drugs so early nowadays, to fit in? Why haven’t they caught on? Is there no reasoning with children? Don’t they comprehend that shrieking like a howler monkey is only going to make them grossly unpopular and probably spanked in public? Ugh. I wish paddling children was still socially acceptable and not considered child endangerment/abuse. I think it would really cut down on the fit-throwing that children insist on.

Anna Nicole “Smithed.”

That word is “smithed” as in “SMY-ted,” as in “smote,” you illiterate fools. Not past-tense of Alex “Smith.”

Right now I’m wearing very festive Christmas pants that say HoHoHo all over them, because a) I am one, and b) So is Kehly, due to the fact that I am fresh out of clean clothes. I’m not concerned. Yet.

I’m in the midst of a Kellogg’s Special K Red Berries binge right now on account of my lack of ability to deal with my emotions–I mean Anna Nicole Smith DIED after all; what do you EXPECT me to do?!

So…Anna Nicole Smith…found unconscious in a Miami hotel, pronounced dead at a nearby hospital, cause of death “unknown.” I think the term “unknown” is as good as “violent drug overdose,” so I’m gonna go ahead and just accept that. Probably some pain killer or another, I’ll put my money where my mouth is. Much like Paris Hilton, I still don’t know what Anna Nicole Smith is famous for. All she did was gain weight, lose weight, and marry an old guy all while acting anything but socially acceptable. I’ve been doing this my whole life, minus marrying the old guy part (unless you consider Justin Timberlake as “old”–I mean he does have a solid 5 years on me; that’s for you to decide) and what have I got to show for it? Nothing. Nothing but AIDS. That’s another story.

Anyway, God bless her soul.

….Trim Spa, baby.

Speaking of Paris Hilton, what has she ever done, besides other people?

Whore.

I was thinking about my elementary days today, and I recalled when we had to draw pictures for whatever reason in class. First of all, mine were always better than everyone else’s (unless they begged me to draw theirs for them which I often did because their own drawings made me angry on account of how horrible they were). Second, I could never understand why people couldn’t draw a decent portrayal of a human or a simple dog. On to what I was going to talk about though. Did you ever notice how kids cannot understand the concept of the sky? Actually, you probably were one of those kids. They could not, to save their life, draw a normal sky. Sounds simple enough: it’s blue and has no shape. Not according to these kids. The sky looked like this:

I actually looked that up on Google and found exactly what I was looking for in seconds. That’s what I’m talking about. The sky doesn’t reach the ground at the horizon. Oh no. It’s a chunk at the top of the paper. There’s the predictable sun, too. It’s never a round circle in the sky–it’s always peeking out of the corner of the paper. I’m surprised this kid didn’t draw a smiley face on it like everyone else usually did. Obviously this child is a complete retard. First of all, what is even going on in that picture? Oh look; there’s a butterfly in the stratosphere, where they’re normally found—right along side airplanes. Oh–and it’s the same size as one of the cars. I love how the road is sticking up like a flag from the ground, too. Not to mention the grass is half as tall as the door. I think this child will grow up to be an engineer.

Anyway, I’m in the ITC again. I’m about to do some serious studying as a continuation of last night. I’m slightly flustered because I had to purchase a fruit punch Powerade instead of Gatorade because they were out, and I don’t trust any of that grape or arctic chill shiv. It was the “next best thing,” but it’s far too sugary for my liking. I’m disappointed.

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“He’s been drinking. You’ve been drinking, haven’t you.”