It's been an amazing day.

I discovered only a few hours ago that if I make my oven warm and then put bread in it, the oven somehow converts the bread into toast. This works for crumpets, too. You put a raw crumpet in, walk away for a few minutes, come back, and you have crumpet toast.

Then, because of the heat, if you apply butter to the toast, the butter melts and gets lodged in the toast. It won't come out. The only way you can get it out of the toast is to eat it.

That's what I've been working on. You?

Glorious as that is, it isn't quite as spectacular as the further divinations that I divined with Felix.

In this short addition to the previous video, I tell Felix about his future. His dog. His womens. His safety. His dog's safety. His womens's safety.

Crap. My upstairs neighbors are fighting again. They fight, like, every god damned minute. And they never sound like they're having any fun while doing it.

There was this one time when they had a pumpkin the size of a Volkswagen on the front porch for three months. Then the pumpkin rotted, putting the porch and the health of everyone around in danger, so they removed the pumpkin.

I wasn't there when they removed the pumpkin, but, judging from the aftermath, it's apparently impossible to remove a large pumpkin from a porch without rolling the thing down the stairs, at the bottom of which the pumpkin squamshes into a large pile of goo. Then the pumpkin, rather than rotting at the top of the stairs, rots at the bottom of the stairs. Fortunately, the pile of squamshed pumpkin is in the middle of the path to my half of the duplex. I can't imagine how unbearable life would be if I didn't have to smish through a pile of squamshed pumpkin every day as I enter and leave my home.

They're nice people, but their arguments and squamshed pumpkin are more involved in my life than I'd like them to be. Sometimes I think about how funny it would be if I took about a gallon of rotting squamshed pumpkin (that's about 1/80th of the total squamshed pumpkin), broke into their house, and dumped the gallon of rotting squamshed pumpkin in their bed with a poorly drawn sign that said: "YOU."

I don't know what it means. I just think it would be funny. If they found that in their bed, then maybe they'd stop arguing. Instead, they could wonder why somebody would go and put a gallon of rotting squamshed pumpkin in their bed with a sign that said: "YOU."

I also think it would be funny to fill their bathtub with squamshed pumpkin, and also their freezer, and then it would be REALLY funny if I broke the sunroof of their car and dumped ten gallons of squamshed pumpkin inside.

When I was done, there wouldn't be any squamshed pumpkin left in my path, and my neighbors would have something to laugh about for once.

If only I had more time...

Oh, yeah. Video:

[Gratuitous Links to my Homies - Not Part of the Post Above] [Learn More]

- Lloyd - I don't understand why Lloyd gets a good looking site and I don't. If anybody wants to spend many long weeks redesigning my site for free while I critique it until you cry, then contact me before this amazing opportunity goes on to someone else.

- Yuvi - Yuvi's out working on some school stuff, but someone needs to be linking to the guy until he gets back in March. I shall be that guy. There are other guys who're being that guy, too. But not at the exact same time. That's why I'm still the guy. As long as there's no overlap, we can all be the guy.

- Astrid - Astrid lucked out the other day when I didn't call her to unload all my problems. I still have her number, though, and I still have problems. I also have plenty of squamshed pumpkin left to put in her fridge. I hear people think it's funny when they find squamshed pumpkin in their homes.