There is a tiny place inside my head where I have been hiding to avoid being there when I call people to do surveys all day long, which is what I have been doing since school ended.
Uneventfully, there is very little in this tiny space, and the United-Statsers who I have been calling make it in far too often. (to any unitedstatsers in the audience do not feel insulted, I understand that you are barraged by telephonic solicitations, I merely hate to be among them)
Queerly enough, today was the day when my dignity was stolen from me by a tv prank crew from Just For Laughs. It was a sketchy, pretty unfunny, and ultimately botched joke about doing a survey for Health Canada and going to have the final questions asked by a doctor in the next room, which seems to the trickee to be a bathroom where the angry doctor is performing and act of defecation. Of course, they sent me too early, and I just saw an empty doctorless room, so they had to stall me and send me back, which faded the gag a tad.
I would show you a picture of these ridiculous people, but my batteries were completely dead. my creation depends on portable electricity.
You should be reading a book by Kurt Vonnegut, I have been doing it for years, and have never once been left unsatisfied.
Novels by kurt vonnegut are better than sex in that regard at least.