I am trying to imagine a world without the Internet. And when I do, the inner workings of my head scream the shrillest most disturbing screech. Without the Internet, there would and COULD actually be MORE human beings actually OUT farting and shopping.
I just returned from a four hour shopping extravaganza. And I’m about damn ready to puke. But I can’t puke because I don’t have ONE drop of solid food in my stomach. I haven’t eaten anything since last night’s tuna.
I visited all of the following stores (for reasons I can not go into until after Christmas):
Filene’s Basment, DSW, The Goth Store on Third Avenue, the OTHER Goth store on Third Avenue (you know, the one right next to the mother ship), Forbidden Planet, Canal Jeans, FCUK, The outside shopping thing on Union Square, A shoe store (I don’t know the name), PC Richards (or whatever his name is), some card shop, and, lastly, but so not leastly, MACY’s on 34th street.
AND HOLY SWEET NESTOR THE LONG EARED XMAS DONKEY, Macy’s sucks during the holidays. What a nightmare. What an absolute conscious nightmare. It was even worse than the one I had just before I woke up this morning. That was the one where my parents were trying to force me into marrying someone like [if not the actual] Arnold Schwarzenegger. And when I kept saying, “I don’t like that man. He’s not my type! I like this other man named TobyJoe!” they insisted. And it became horrible when I realized that I might have to spend my life with something other than TobyJoe, thereby giving him to someone else, luckier. And as funny as the alternative may seem to you, I woke up in a cold sweat, whimpering.
Macy’s sucked. Macy was almost worse than marrying Arnold Schwarzenegger and giving up TobyJoe.
And here I am, home again, with only THREE presents.
Failure.
But, alas, NOW I must eat.
Mihow 
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