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My name is not Kayla. You can call me Kayla. I enjoy summertime picnics & long walks on the beach, followed by an exercise in mass genocide & a full-scale riot dedicated to a cause I can neither pronounce nor define. You could say that I am an expert on galactic diversity, having grown up in the eleventh dimension & gone on to devote the better part of my lifetime to conducting risque government-funded scientific experiments on interplanetary breeding. However, I should warn you that if you say that there is approximitely a %666 chance you'll wind up in a straight jacket & a muzzle. In the immortal words of Hay-zeus, Christ our Savior: "We guardeth thou cattle & thy neighbor's fertile pastures, scanning the heavens for unholy invaders; but it is neither land nor bread that the aliens doth covet. The alien invasion doth occurith in the Central Nervous System!" Let's get 'em, boys! My brain must be extra-popular with those damn extraterrestrials as a landing field (perhaps that's my calling in life?!)... Bastards won't stop trying to abduct my psyche, & I don't even have enough of my Frontal Lobe left to remember if they've succeeded at all yet! Such X-Files agonies I am incalculably prone to... If Jesus jumped off a bridge, would you do it, too?! ... According to Religious Historians, Jesus was actually born in 4 B.C. That's four years before his own birth... What the hell heaven holy ghost?! That's almost as flat-out ridiculous as the fact that there's apparently such a thing as Religious Historians. Just another one of the multitude of bad things that can happen when you put a bunch of dipshits in very powerful positions... Often times I sit around wondering what would happen if you put dead animals in a bucket of Draino, or if making a person swallow chewing tobacco for a long period of time is a good form of torture. I'm ugly on the inside, too. I'm never going to be anything. A job is a job; pacing is a bad habit. Why kill time when you can kill yourself? The mind is a terrible thing to taste. I don't believe in an omnipotent God. There are so many things that God cannot do! God can't lie, or do wrong, or be late, or change clothes, or make mistakes, or be unholy. If God can't do these things, then God cannot be everything. If I don't stop talking about God, Anton Levay might crucify me on a t-bone steak. That's the first flat-out nonsensical thing that I've said so far. 100% of people die at least once in their lifetime! Remember back in the '60s when all the locked up junkies were smoking banana peels because some fucking pre-Timothy Leery psycho decided that it would get you high?! Neither do I. I have seen some crazy shit, but nothing like that. When I was 15 I used to sneak into bars. Of course, I later died of alcoholism, but the depression was what brought that on. But there's no happiness a high income & white skin can't buy... That's why I'm currently living on my own private island in the South China Sea with my 5,000 sex slave boys, & 15,000 sexier slave girls, operating the weather by remote control. This is really happening. Youbetyourlifeitisn't. <br />
