Cheerist, Jonesy. I'm the fawking general topic? And you know what the sad thing is? I have absolutely nothing to say. I was going to post a long tale about my trip to a "haunted" graveyard and my subsequent complete failure to score with a scared eighteen-year-old tonight, but it just wasn't coming together into anything, you know, funny. So now I'm just standing here with one nut hanging out of my pajamas, like some guy on camera who just realized that:
A. He's forgotten his lines.
B. It doesn't matter, because he's in a snuff film.
So, you know, thanks a fucking lot, buddy.
Er... um...
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Ice Cream Jonsey
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