Wha? Me? Who?
I need your help! My name is...I don't know what my name is! I only have one clue to my existence! A note! I found it, let's just say, in the latter part of my digestive tract. I pulled it out, and it on it said http://www.burnttoastdiner.com, and a password, and I logged on and here I am!
Who am I? Tell me! I know nothing about myself! I am confused! I want bacon! But why? I don't know! Am I a bacon lover? I don't know! Maybe I grew up on a pig farm! It's a definite possibility! Maybe I love country music! Do I? Do I?!?!?!?!
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Excuse me, I just passed out. I kinda lost it there. I am confused as to my place in life, but I have the distinct feeling that I have always been that way, that I have never known who I am, and that I've never known love. What is love, but flying up to the apex of the stratosphere, only to skydive out of a metaphorical plane with a defective parachute that only deploys after one has hit the ground? I have the strange impulse to speak in metaphors! Why, I do not know. Perhaps because metaphorical language is as deep as the bottomless pit in that movie "The 300." Wait, I remember movies, but not who I am? That doesn't make any sense. And wait a second, that wasn't a metaphor, but a simile! Ahhh! I speak in similes, too?! WHHHHHHYYYYY?!
What curse is this, to speak in such language and to feel pain and remorse when I don't remember where it's coming from? But is it coming from anywhere? Or is this life a permanent state of pain and remorse? If so, what kind of life is this that I have led? A truly miserable one, to be sure.
Wait a minute, I think I've figured out what kind of music I listen to! It's so simple! It's gotta be emo!
One thing down, one hundred bajillion to go! Blurry. Amnesia. Cliched storyline. Such is...Peter?
11 patrons:
Peter,
Is this why you called one night with this question.
"I just got kissed,does this mean I'm Irish?"
Now stop playing pretend and come home. Your older brother is a drunk. You'll have a good time with him now.
Good! That means you forgot the whole, "Call me Noah" thing. In that case, you can call me Mr. Ben...uh, I mean, Mr. Butler from now on.
I see you like to cry. We should get together sometime.
Lol! I though you didn't posted because you forgot your ID and pasword, but that wasn't an impediment for you =P.
I can tell you something about you, if it helps: you're DA bomb!
Such is...Peter?
Yes. Such is Peter.
why don't you look on your blog profile?
Your really a model for D&G. I am your favorite friend. We where going to model with Paris Hilton but you stood me up.
I don't know you. Your amnesia is not my fault.
Ummm...Can I have my necklace back now? Please?
Peter,
Stop being goofy and come home!Honestly!
AH HA.
So you are blogging, are you?
I knew I could find you on the internet. Now, if only I can find you in Ireland...
Oh uh, I have all the answers you need. I'm your...girlfriend. Yep. I can tell you all you need to know!
dont listen to her shes lying i know everything about you come to my myspace and ill tell you everything. http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=110927899
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