I have often felt like an outsider, a stranger amongst my own kind. Like I don’t quite belong here. Because my brain works so unusually, I sometimes feel like I might be from somewhere very far away. When I make new blog friends, friends who get what I am trying to do and say, I feel less like that.
You make me feel welcome on your planet…










I got nothing for this one!
I call that winning.
Wait – clinton was an alien?
This isn’t rocket science… follow along… I did pictures and everything.
Do aliens even use rockets?
They do when they want to send a very fast probe to Uranus…
Yes! Bat Boy! I see the resemblance!
Hey now…
I calls ’em as I sees ’em. Or something like that.
I can live with that… I guess…
Dammit! You beat me to it!
You people make me crazy.
Blind luck. So you see it, too?
No, but I’ve heard of such things…
You mean you don’t enjoy being chided and ridiculed? Now what shall we talk about?
I enjoy it when it is done with flair.
My eyelashes flair. Good thing you used that word. Do you have anything that flares?
No.
Too bad.
Too sad.
And how d’you define flair? Kindda makes the line blurry. You can only hope to grow a good skin -that’s not allergic to poo, because you may get pooic missiles once in a while on wordpress.
Glad I make you feel welcome. You that, right. I dig your insanity in a genuine way.
I know flair when I see it. You got some.
Don’t know whether to trust the words of a man seeing his menses… and high on lovexytocin.
I keep a rather modest view of myself.
Please do more Weekly World News Photoshops.
It is hard to improve on what they already do.
Bat Boy!
That dude is creepy.
I relate to part 3 of this post on many levels! LOL
Don’t worry, once the fleet arrives and we take over this dump and run it the right way, everything will be farzzelignazzpiggnoramitt!
And Bill’s left hand is……where exactly?
Don’t ask… don’t tell… don’t worry…
Clintie says relax.
He said I could go to work at the White House as an intern!!!
“I did NOT have sexual relations with that handsome, shade-wearing man!”
Don’t get me confused with that alien who happens to look a little like me…
The one who writes this blog?
No… you are talking to the other one… the one from the other reality… the one you normally speak to… (ha…delicious irony)… is away at the moment.
Irony is delicious isn’t it; I like it on toast, sprinkled with truffles.
Butter and cinnamon…
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…
When I was a kid, I used to come home from school and make 8 pieces of cinnamon toast.
That’s because you were 8′ 24″…I always forget how much I love cinnamon; I want some now but I haven’t got any…
I lost the recipe… sigh…