Anyway, instead, I shall cut to the chase. And what might the chase be?
Well, a chase is a form of a competition between two parties, in which a pursuer tries to catch another person, trying to -
Oh, wait. Not that chase.
This chase! The chase is..... my reason for not posting for such a long time.
I was going to come up with something really crazy awesome. The TSA needed my assistance in catching someone dangerous. I was kidnapped and narrowly escaped with my life. I was.... trapped inside of a.... something. I don't know. They erased my memory afterwards. I got kidnapped by a kangaroo. It was a purple kangaroo. I am scarred for life. Then I decided that would be stupid, and I should stop being stupid. (Even though this entire blog is based on me being stupid.)
So, instead, I come before you today with nothing but the truth. The cold, hard, sort of sharp and pointy, rather rock-like, truth.
And the truth is? Nothing in my life has been very funny lately.
Then again, nothing in my life is ever very funny. I'm just weird and have the ability to make things like bathrooms and toasters seem "funny" to me.
And the reason my funny-o-meter has been wonky? Ah, why, it's because my Humor Goggles were in the repair shop. You see, everything that crosses my line of vision instantaneously becomes hilarious when I'm wearing them. Like my father's face when he found out that I actually am that American serial killer from the 1600s? Very, very funny. Or terrifying. Depending on your definition. (He refuses to believe my claims that I've "turned over a new leaf." Seriously, I killed and ate 148 people, man. It's not like I'm hopeless or anything.)
Actually, wait, no, darn. The 1600s were before America existed. Foiled again...
Someone will believe me on that one day. Just you wait. It will make an amazing post.
Anyway, yes. Can you imagine if such goggles existed?
Bwahahaha! Birds! Hilarious!
AHAHAHA! YOUR FACE!
Hey, look, it's the.... the mailman! Ahaahah! Hello, mailman!
I think that I have officially figured out the fastest way to get myself institutionalized. This must take place. I will marvel at the hilarity of a blade of grass. I will. It will be very public. I will probably do some kind of jig. It will involve Mars. And I will claim to be of the Roman Mathingajiggy Clan from the year 9857. And I will do a jig. Did I mention the jig? I will sway. Like a blade of grass. And then I will eat the grass. Because if something is funny, it is eaten. Right?
Babies aren't funny, though. We don't eat babies.
I need to come up with dances for everything, you know that? I will have a mailman dance, and a school dance, and a sun dance, and I will spend my entire life dancing like an idiot. But the grass dance'll be the best, I bet.
Oh, I know! I'll have a chase dance! And while these high speed chases with police take place, I will be atop the offender's car, dancing. That won't look suspicious at all.
Okay, time to cut this off. Sorry, I know this wasn't even slightly amusing. I'll do better next time, hopefully.
When I get my Humor Goggles back. I'm not kidding you, I really need those things.