Lame New World

So all in all, my life has been pretty bitchin’ lately. You know, party all night and work 8 hours a day (discussing parties). You know me, just kickin’ back, going to the beach, takin’ life easy.

Except for this one stupid thing lately. You see, last week i’m out on my porch shotgunning a Pabst tallboy when my lawn is suddenly like, way brighter than normal. Then it stops being bright, and there’s this weird machine full of like pulleys and science, with this goofy fucker sitting on it. He starts trying to talk to me and starts talking in this weird language all like "I have traversed the bounds of time itself" and "You there chap, what year be this?". Anyway, my roommate who took AP Bio talked to him for a bit and it turned out he was a time-traveler from some country called "Victorian England."

And at first I was like sweet. I saw that one movie where they time-traveled, maybe he has a hoverboard. Or even some money he can lend me, since he can afford all of the steam whistles and clock-globes for his time machine.

But man is it a drag. First of all, the dude is a total nerd. He keeps asking me to explain how everything works, and I’m like dude I don’t know how the microwave works, I just use it for burritos. And he never shuts up about how amazed he is by everything. He practically jizzed in his fruity pants when I took him to see Predators. I thought it was kinda rad, but the whole time he’s spazzing out about the room above us making the picture move and I’m like chill out bro. Plus like I said, he has this really gay way of talking. Thing is, when I told him, he thanked me, like I didn’t just say he talks like a faggot (I won’t even tell you what he thinks that means).

Anyway, things will be a lot chiller when he goes back to France to tell all his gay friends about my toaster. Oh shit, I have to go, I don’t want him to see me writing this and having to tell him what the internet is.