|Now with 10 extra gigabytes for enhanced soul-storage!|
So the aborginoids or something like that, have this idea that whenever someone takes their picture it takes a part of their soul. I tots (short for totally) agree with this theory. Therefore, until yesterday I only allowed my picture to be taken on my birthday and at those red-light cameras that take a picture whenever you accidentally can't find the brake pedal on a red-light. P.S. Does anyone know what a fine is? Because the police came by my house yesterday and said I needed to pay fines or I would be arrested. Stop using those ten-dollar words, coppers! I can't afford 'em!
Seriously. I ate a bean today on the street. Delish, btw!
But horror of horrors, I got my picture taken yesterday for something called “Crimestoppers.” Me and Jorge were just eating at our favorite Mexican place and a camera placed over the doorway took a picture of us as we ran away. I don't know why they are so unfriendly there. Every time we go to the Sanchez's house to eat out of their fridge, they sick their dog on us or try to shoot us. You would think in a recession that business owners would be more friendly. As my Mom would say, what happened to the customer is always right? I guess that's a little different because she only says that at massage parlors. Or as my Mom calls them “massage” parlors.
I need some tips on how to regain my soul. I'm not into praying because it always leaves me with a weird horny feeling. Killing a person for their soul doesn't gel with my belief that you should only kill someone out of self-defense or when trying a karate move that goes terribly wrong. (RIP, Tony the Turtle). Well, hopefully I'll get it back soon, my chest is feeling icy without it. Or maybe it's because I've been putting ice cubes down my shirt in order to prepare myself for the next ice age.