I'm Back [Fuckers]

Due to sheer boredom and a love for my own ramblings, I'm back! Not much has changed; I'm still sickeningly good-looking/wealthy, I still have a deep rooted hatred for all non white (read: pure) people , and evidently I still remember how to type.

As I type this I'm trying to "procure" a copy of Photoshop in order to wow you with my image compositing skillz. In case my clever use of ironic quotes hasn't clued you in, I'm pirating Photoshop. It looks like I'm still Jewish, so that hasn't changed either.

Read my blog!

Update: Photoshop.com appears to be awesome and free.

I'd like to talk a little about traumatic experiences. Not my own so much, there isn't nearly enough time or accredited Internet Therapists for that.

Update 2: Photoshop.com sucks. If I wanted some fancy method to remove red eye I would stop smoking meth.

Anyway, this morning I was leisurely minding my own business, NOT looking at porn, when suddenly I hear my name being shouted from across the way.

"Hammer! Hammer!"

I've convinced everyone at work that my birth name is Hammer Rapenstein. It was surprisingly easy.

"Come here, something is on fire!"

I looked toward the first logical place, my loins. Thankfully, they were not. So I strolled next door to find the kitchen engulfed in smoke and smelling of burnt toast. I looked down at my loins again, just to make sure. Then I looked to the toaster. Ah ha!

It looked like this but not nearly as dramatic or tasty.

Let's call the person who discovered this...Panicky. I was then told that "since the car burned down," Panicky was uncomfortable with fire. Just to be clear, yes, I am a classically trained (Julliard) firefighter. The extent of my fire fight with the bread however, amounted to me inhaling and quickly exhaling. Imagine blowing out the candles on the world's shittiest birthday cake.


I'm all for avoiding situations that rehash traumatic experiences (Ask me when the last time I used a broom was. 1989.), but c'mon! Everyone needs to calm the eff down and put things in perspective. A flaming piece of toast is relatively harmless. Unless it's Rye. God DAMMIT do I love Rye bread.