To explain the source of my newfound, and to be honest, recently lost joy, is an unusual and tragically temporary change of environs. I traveled north to the great land of Louisiana, in order to pursue a career which films like Kingdom of Heaven and Swamp Thing and the television show Lost had forced me to become enamored of. Yes, I went to the other LA to, and lived with my painfully talented former roommate, David Chain and his unfairly beautiful girlfriend, Daisy Liker (Yes, if they get married, their names will be funny) in the hopes of pursuing my new ambition, with the ultimate goal of becoming a Swamp Engineer.
Anyway, I'll explain more about the cunning wit of Mr. Chain, and the breathtaking charm of Ms. Liker, as well as the extraordinary field of Swamp Mechanics in due time, but first I want to clue you in to the utterly horrific habit that slew my happiness and drove me back to my home in the center of erectilly dysfunctional land-penis that is Florida.
Yes, the contagious good qualities of my Louisiana roommates made me feel as if I too was somehow worthy of consuming oxygen with all of the clearly more qualified inhabitants of this planet, and despite the repeated failure of every attempt I made to break into the swamp science field, I still felt high on a sense of... self-worth. Then, an infernal card game ruined it all. The game ensnared Daisy first and then she sex-contaged it over to David. Then the two of them in an unholy possessed duo gang-raped me right in the can... the ass... the ta?
Canasta is an evil game, that like Monopoly takes several hours to play and like Chinese water torture is really not so terribly pleasant. I was terrible at this game, because it, like life required skills that I did not possess; the patience of a soccer mom, the strategic mind of a small country's military leader, and the ability to count of a fourth grade honor roll student. I had none of these, and so, as in the great cosmic video-game of fate, I failed.
And then, these two incredible room mates, possessed by the evil powers of rational thinking, and perhaps in some cruel attempt to purge their home of sadness, made an ultimatum. "Nicholas!!!" they yelled, vaguely reminiscent of the witch from The Witches, and punctuated by many exclamation points, "You shall play with us this game of Canasta, in the nude, while being whipped by a team of midgets who you must find and bring to us!!! or you must vacate the premises by Someday!"
Well, I couldn't find enough midgets, so, sadly, I cleaned out the closet that they had so kindly permitted me to use as a room, packed away my superhero costume (more on that later) and headed, like a bitch, with my tail between my legs, back to the dangling flaccid tail of Florida, and back to the internet, to type my tears away.
