Day 1:
Went to the rodeo in a wedding gown
and lassoed up a gorilla to bring home
to the illegal monkey farm I’ve got going in my attic.

Took a trip to the mall and shoplifted a kangaroo costume to wear to a funeral.

Day 2:
Looking past the obvious signs of moral decay,
I confessed to a crime I didn’t commit and was thrown into a Cuban jail cell
with a semicircle of nuns shimmying in hula hoops,
singing “God Bless America”
while a Korean priest with a three foot high burgundy red mohawk jumped on a pogo stick,
screaming “I GOT THE JEEEEZZZUS! I GOT THE JEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZZUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSS!”

Reverend Jeremiah Wright was there, too.

Day 3:
Vomited prescription medicines from an acid washed TV commercial not yet shown on Youtube
and forced a silver dildo into a stranger’s ass on the subway
claiming I was only trying to take his rectal temperature
because he looked like someone I saw on CNN with the BIRD FLU!

Day 4:
Broke into my neighbor’s house last night whilst they were at the Opera.

Camped out in their bedroom closet, roasted marshmellows and spraypainted vulgar words on the ceiling.

When they got home and went to bed I burst out of the closet dressed like a vampire and had an epileptic fit in the bathtub.

Day 5:
Wore a full body condom, talked like a pirate
and had rough sex with four West African hookers,
most of which were female... I think.

Made spaghetti in the toilet and pissed in the sink.

I could be a werewolf, though I’m not entirely convinced.

However, what I do know is this:
Normal human beings don’t smoke cat food and get into fistfights with one-armed men.

Day 6:
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
(I just felt like setting my pubic hair on fire and slapping myself across the face)

Day 7:
Had a dream I got into a hair-pulling slapfight with William Shakespeare during a scene from “Macbeth”
that was lost for years only to be recently discovered lurking around
as a subliminal message that the Hamburglar does in McDonalds commercials.

Day 8:
Received an absinthe enema in a grocery store parking lot from
a bald-headed, cock-eyed, trenchcoated Pakastani woman with a humpback, beergut and no teeth.

Went up to random women on the street saying “Ohhh, baby, I just want to prematurely ejaculate in you.”

Tried out my new stand up comedy routine at a karaoke bar
and was savagely beaten by an angry bunch of telemarketers from Rome.
Ate someone’s pussy and dryhumped a Colombian stripper during the taxi ride home.

Cried myself to sleep (again) muttering:
“It’s not my fault I have such a small penis! It’s not my fault!”

Day 9:
Saw an anti-semitic chain gang of diabetic blind people with tourette’s syndrome
Flamenco dancing on the front lawn of the Whitehouse totally in sync to the music on my iPod.
I assaulted them with a baseball bat and whipped cream canister anyway.

Day 10:
I noticed a coupon in the newspaper for a schizophrenia support group.
I clipped it and joined an online dating service.

Day 11:
Set up a line of bear traps to catch morbidly obese people outside the all-you-can-eat buffet.
I think I’m turning into a cannibal.

Day 12:
Had a panic attack thinking about Britney Spears’ vagina;
smoked crack and stared at Chris Rock’s picture for an hour;
dialed 911 and repeatedly asked the operator:
“Do people like me?”

Day 13:
Suddenly started speaking in an indigenous language from Kenya with all those clicking type sounds
and spastically sodomized a Venezuelan transsexual on an escalator in Dallas.

Day 14:
Since it’s February, I went out trick or treating.

Day 15:
Proposing for marriage should never be done hangliding naked through Manhattan,
shitting condoms full of cocaine.
This can only lead to an unhealthy relationship.

Day 16:
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
OOOOBBBBBUUUUAAHAHAWAWALALALAKAAKAAADOODOOROOOREEEEHHHHHER!
(I just felt like screaming and making weird sounds)

Day 17:
Hello?!
It really is true that the average person farts fourteen times a day!

Epilogue:
So, in conclusion, what I’ve ascertained from all this is-
That when football teams of flamboyant homosexuals in spandex
run after
imaginary flies with flamethrowers,
nobody
ever
loses.