I don't even know how to start this post. That's an indicator that you should just skip over this one.

So I recently got in a fight about grammar with Michael Jackson's Ghost on Facebook.

I would put a link to the conversation but I don't think it would be accessible to you--my one dear reader. Instead, I'm just going to relay a conversation I had with my friend shortly afterward...

ME: I'm trying to decide which story to write about for my point-of-view essay. I don't really have anything to say for either of them...
So then I wondered if you could find short stories on Sparknotes. In case you were wondering too, you can't.

TRISTAN: Oh, dammit.

ME: I just had a cyber fight with Michael Jackson's Ghost. WTF?

TRISTAN: Are you on meth?

ME: Well...no. But he has a totally unnecessary hyphen in his name and I just pointed that out after he commented on Rach's status.Then he got all pissy and told me I had reckless punctuation, but my grammar is mother-fucking immaculate. So GET AT ME, Michael Jackson's Ghost.

TRISTAN: You just raped him with words.

ME: You found it! Thanks for supporting me, friend. He's not even a real person. It's prolly like someone's cat or something that figured out how to type in order to ease his separation anxiety...

TRISTAN: Wait. I'm totally quoting that.

ME: No. You're not, actually.

TRISTAN: I'll give you credit for it. *

ME: WAIT. Rach just told me it's her dad's friend from high school. I just peed a little. This is awkward...

TRISTAN: I'm literally peeing my pants this is so entertaining.
GAHHH...I NEED TO FIND A SENIOR QUOTE.

ME: Common Ground: "They all have babies and they all carry them all the time." --Aine Cole

TRISTAN: Tempting. I was actually going to say, "OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH YOUR SEX IS ON FIIIIIIIIIIIRE...

ME: Oh. I would go with that one, fo' sho'.

TRISTAN: Fuck my life. I need a good one! Imma quote Nicki Minaj...

ME: "And I don't sympathize 'cause you a simple bitch." DONE.

TRISTAN: Personally, I would quote "Days of Our Lives."
"You wink it just goes by. So we'll just get it with no edison."

ME: Go for it, Homo.

*He didn't. That asshole.

Let me tell you about my mother...

Do you know my mother? No? Well...my mother works at a bank, has a tramp stamp, aspires to be a "Gentleman Farmer," and once had a meltdown because she believes "clothing should not actually touch [her] skin." She also will curb stomp you if you throw away a sliver of paper. That shit is recyclable, yo. In other words, she's insane. Or fantastic. Take your pick.

Anyway, recently she got a mole removed on the top of her thigh, and--apparently--the stitches are hyper-sensitive right now. The other day I was just sitting on the couch engaged in some stressful form of homework, blissfully unaware of the coming assault to all my senses, when my mother walks past the doorway. She stops and turns to face me. She is wearing short Soffe shorts and a stolen pair of my over-the-knee volleyball socks. If one mixed all the colors of each garment together it would prolly be the approximate shade that causes one's eyes to explode. I look up and she waves her hand across her body as if she needs to direct my attention toward her outfit. "Get at me," she says. And then she walks away. In the words of Miranda Presley, "That's all."

God bless mother fucking America!

Just today, a friend showed me this article. And after I stopped crying from laughter, I started crying for America. Or maybe it was from fear. Of Nicolas Cage. No, not because he is currently the word's holder of the title "Ugliest Man Alive," but because of this. Nic cage is a vampire?

My favorite part is the quote from the seller:

 "Personally, I believe it's him and that he is some sort of walking undead/vampire, et cetera, who quickens/reinvents himself once every 75 years or so. 150 years from now, he might be a policitian, the leader of a cult, or a talk show host."

Although the seller's use of "et cetera" confuses me, I am mostly impressed that he knows that the Nicolas Cage vampire reinvents himself every 75 years. But what does bother me is the poll question: "Do you think this photograph looks like Nicolas Cage?" Apparently, my only choices are "Yes--I believe he is a vampire," "No way--this is ridiculous," or "I don't know." Obviously, it is not possible to think the photo resembles Nicolas Cage and still believe he is mortal. My ideas are clearly too fucking revolutionary for this poll...

I hope my ugliness won't offend you.

Do you ever wonder why people watch Spongebob when they aren't under the age of ten? Then this is for you. My brother and I often spend our free time watching Spongebob videos on Youtube. Just in case you're wondering, my brother is 19. Are you judging? Stop. Now watch these videos. They speak for themselves.

You're welcome.

It just got better, ya'll!

Hey! Good news, yo. I have hired my friend, Colin to be in charge of design and art. Now, fortunately, you won't have to look at my heinous attempts at artwork ever again as much as before. Yay! Seriously--WHY AREN'T YOU CHEERING? Now--because it is my specialty--here is a horribly inaccurate representation of Colin.

HOLD. UP. What am I taking about? This is a mo-fucking masterpiece. Colin really has those snazzy orange pants. Plus he's always yelling stuff like that.

welcome, yo.

Hey mother fuckers! Too much? No, I get. Right now you're thinking, "Who the fuck is this chick? This is totally not worth my time." And I'm not going to lie to you. You're completely right. To those who take pity on me--or simply have bad taste--READ ON.

Welcome to my blog. My name is Mikal (pronounced Michael). And this is me below.

As you can see my body is roughly the shape and color of a Christmas tree, my eyes are a stunning shade of poop, and I am perpetually flipping people off. It's a disability, asshole. Don't judge me. Actually, the truth is, this is my first time ever using the paint program on my computer, and this, combined with my total lack of computer skills, has led to this horribly inaccurate version of myself. In real life--I can assure you--I am much more heinous to behold. So trust me, I'm doing you a favor. I am hoping to improve these skills so please bear with me for the time being. We are all suffering. Stop complaining. I also will TRY not to draw pictures if I can help it. Your health is important to me too and I wouldn't want to burn your eyes or anything.

Anyway, after barely making it through this past year without a daily panic/stress attack, I started writing satirical comics/short stories from the depressing scenes of my adolescent life. I like to think it is sort of theraputic for me but it's quite possible that I've just cracked. ENJOY. Maybe?