Is It Just Me

Dear Reader,

I may have recently stumbled across a literal demonic death cult, and I’m not sure how to feel about it.

In an entirely intentional attempt to isolate myself from any sight or sign of humanity as possible, I unintentionally found myself lost in some remote corner of Black Star Canyon. And somewhere between realizing I had one hell of a walk back to my car and crying for my mother, I heard a strange chanting coming from deep within the old, abandoned mine shaft I’d foolishly chosen to expel both urine and insight into my predicament.

To make a long hike through a dark, winding series of tunnels and tangentially related annecdotes short, I eventually found myself in a vast, underground cavern with an equally vast, underground lake. And in the center of the lake were a bunch of strange little men chanting a strange little diddy to a strange, yet maddeningly large, fleshy skelatal something or other sitting right there in the water like it was a kiddie pool.

Having spent my fair share of afternoons in Irvine, I can’t say I haven’t seen worse. But once I witnessed this entity drink the wailing souls of several middle-school science teachers, I figured I’d seen most of what they had to offer and politely left without signing the registry.

And to make things even worse, I didn’t realize I’d left my keys by the toilet until I’d already made it back to the parking lot.

A Bit Early for Labels

Dear Reader,

Fun fact: There Goes My Nipples Again was once deemed too sexual for one particularly popular website. (Well… one particular subsection of one particularly popular website.) When pressed to explain how this was so, I was taken on a long, vague walk that ultimately had us in the general vicinity of, “I didn’t even bother reading past the title.”