The cool kids use google.ca

I wish the feel lucky result for my name was better. Who cares about a .pdf filled with jibberish?

If you want a REAL laugh, put your first name into Google’s image search. You seem to have a predilection historic clothing. The people who share my name… my god… it’s scary.

And might explain some things… Hrm.

That was wonderful.

Hmmm. Well, my name shows up WAY too much about me and my life… But, if you want different results you can change them, you know(:

i don’t know about you, but i happen to like the results i’m getting …

*THAT* is funny!

Now you need to write an entry called “fuck you, regan” and we’ll see if the reverse applies.

Alternatively, I could write the entry for you:

Fuck You, Regan Walsh

I drank a bottle of wine spent six hours naked in front of my bathroom mirror armed with a camera, clothespins and my vast collection of snap-on bracelets. The feeling of household objects and relics of past decades slapping and clinging to my skin was orgasmic.

[Place photos here]

I fell face-first on the bathmat and writhed in ecstasy. I clung to the toilet and kissed it tenderly. The cold porcelain on my lips was heartbreaking. It felt like suckling at the breast of a giant frozen woman.

After all the joy and pain, I visited Regan’s blog. Blogs are marvellous things; you bare your mind and your soul and your skin to the world and anyone who finds it can give immediate feedback.

Feedback like “Stop baring your skin!” and “Discover/invent and USE a synonym for ‘orgasm’” and “your a gay fag lol.”

I wanted to see if Regan had posted any more advice on surviving in the wilderness or photographs of his ass. The world needs to know about bears and asses.

Click. “Bookstore Shenanigans.”

FUCK! Another boring paragraph where he laments that no one as smart as he is ever comes into his “VeryLargeBookstore.”

I’m getting sick of this shit, Regan. Find something new to post on these hallowed webs. No one cares how great you think you are. You’re turning the world against you and ruining lives.

So fuck you, Regan, because you ruined my evening of drunken cumstained bathroom vanity with your asshole story about people wearing NASCAR hats who think the Da Vinci Code is real. NOBODY CARES!

oh my fucking god regan, that almost made me spit my water onto the keyboard.

Regan is my new hero.

The Regan brand is strengthened by its association with Tudor. For the first time ever the phrase “tudor costache” ranks higher than “cool beards” and “fucking machines” and “random phrases” in the list of search terms referring people to my blog.

Regan… you got it down so pat that when I read the blog entry that he cut and pasted… I thought it was his writing. You got the hyperbole perfectly! You must know him well, or something(:

Rant coming below, because I’m in a pissy mood for some reason and I want to spread the joy:
Hie-pur-bol-E. And, because I refuse to dumb down my language when I don’t have to, here is a link to what hyperbole means:
http://volweb.utk.edu/Schools/bedford/harrisms/hyperbole.htm

Dammit. More people should learn a new word every day.
/rant

Returning you to your regularly scheduled programming now.