Charcoal's Adventures in Guam

Hello everyone! Merry Christmas! It's a holiday and a Thursday! I am writing this post on a holiday! Santa woooh! Exhale everytime. Everytime is a word. Stop it. Do you know about the story of the inflammable trees that were also flammable? Trees are allowed to be both inflammable and flammable BECAUSE THEY MEAN THE SAME THING YOU STUPID LANGUAGE THAT WAS CREATED BY PEOPLE WITH DUMBS. I MEAN REALLY. INFLAMMABLE = FLAMMABLE. INVALUABLE = VALUABLE. DISCOMBOBULATED = HARMONICICAL NOTATION. IT'S ALL THE SAME I DON'T UNDERSTAND.

Enough about that though. It's Christmas, so I'd like to take the time to thank everyone that's made the gravel mixers possible. They like, mix gravel with water and other things to make concrete, and it's really useful in today's society. I mean, it was probably even useful when concrete wasn't real. They had to get it from somewhere. This post is going to be a bit shorter because it's a holiday and I have an excuse to not write as much.

Did you know the story about the trees and flames? Wait I already told you in the first paragraph. Well. I guess I'm going to have to call in a lawyer's pizza delivery guy to determine the situation's precedent. How would law in today's society not allow me to continually say today's society in this one post? I mean, the perfect name for a turtle is Turtsy. But that's beside the point. Besides, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA.

-Griffin

Bomb Usage Within The Clones

This is me writing this post. I have been sick the past THREE days, and now I'm writing this post. Because I tend to do that on Thursdays unless I forget. Even if I did forget, at least you would be able to see the translation for it. Like, if you got a see translation droid and you wanted to translate something into a language you would understand, it would be great. You could literally walk up to like, a hot tea stand or a trash can for money, and then get your see translation droid to translate it into something easier to understand. It might turn into like preferred stock or something. 

Do you remember that time I went to Oregon? Because I really can't. I tried to remember that time when I went to Oregon and met that professional yodeler, but these memories have escaped me. Like, back when coffee machines were $32 per gallon, I had like no coffee machines. But now that they're available in Oregon, I wanted to remember that time I traveled there. I looked into my mind only to FIND HAHA I RHYMED empty spaces where my Oregon memories were. Are you anti-pain or PROPANE AHEHAEHHEAHEHAHHAE

I really don't have any clue what I want to write about in this final paragraph. Maybe I won't make it a paragraph at all.

There it's no longer a paragraph. It's a metal barrel full of only two sentences. That, indeed, is not a paragraph. Even if you flied FedEx instead of paragraph airlines, those two sentences would still not be a paragraph. Like, you could invite a homeless sheep into your house for tee-shirts and window panes, and it wouldn't turn the trees into Roberto at all ever. Even if you wanted it to. I'm very sorry about that.

-Griffin 

Nostril Pudding

Good afternoon. I am taking a break right at this moment to write this post that you are reading at this point in time at this exact moment now with your eyes. I know for a fact that you are reading this post at this exact moment because if you weren't you wouldn't be able to know that I was telling a lie. Unless, of course, you had someone read this post to you, that wouldn't be the case. This is a flaw in my plan. You would be quite weird if you were reading this to someone else. Why would you do that? Don't you know being able to read out loud is a myth? I cannot believe that you would do this.

I wanted to take this time to update your knowledge base about Michigan. If you don't currently have a knowledge base about Michigan, I will first fill you in on some basic information. First of all, Michigan is an unclassified province in Canada America that is shaped like someone trying to stab a mitten. Why would someone want to stab a mitten, we don't know, but that's Michigan. Anyway, I wanted to tell you all that Michigan has changed its name to Canadian Sespadez. I am still trying to get an interview with Michigan scheduled so I can let you know anything about why it did this. Waste bins that live in my town have said something about mathematicians being responsible. That's all they've said. I have no idea if it has anything to do with Canadian Sespadez or bacon helmets. Really. I cannot, under any circumstances, feel for the cacti. They have to do that themselves, I'm not their mother.

I got a little off topic there. Really though, Michigan is now called Canadian Sespadez. Just like what happened to Iceland in the 1940s. Same exact situation. I just heard that Canadian Sespadez wants to with you a happy November. It's been November for like, fourteen days now. Canadian Sespadez really wanted me to tell you though, so there's that. Apparently the entire month is a holiday to Canadian Sespadez. What have you done. 

-Griffin

Noodles and Pregnant Roasts, like the cooked ones

I DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT POSTING YOU JUDGMENTAL ROAD STRIPE. Note that I called you a road stripe which implies that you are yellow with no friends except the other, parallel road stripe right next to you. Even if you were a white road stripe, you would be without food. There's no food for road stripes here. Like, I can't even tell you how often you make me salad, because it's a secret. It's only known by me, and this creepy drawing of a giraffe eating a watermelon out of a can of granola.

On the other hand, I cannot begin to tell you the amount of times Blogspot wants me to type in Times New Roman. Like, everytime I hit backspace, it changes the font automatically. We should make a new, equally terrible font, and name it Clocks Old Spartan. I have no idea what is involved in making a font, but that would be a great name for one. I may look into making a font called Clocks Old Spartan, and I'll include you in the credits. And by you, I mean me. You did nothing, you helpless hotel credit.

Goodnight Pepsi. That is what I would say if my son was named Pepsi. And by named Pepsi I mean my son would have a superpower were he could mutate, over the course of three and a half hours, into a severely flat two liter bottle of Pepsi. It wouldn't be a willful mutation either. Just like, whenever Pepsi saw like a cloud, he would start his three and a half process of becoming a two liter of Pepsi. It would be a very obvious mutation too. Like, his skin would flash in various, monochromatic tones of blue. He'd also emit this ear piercing shriek that could be heard from sixteen hundred feet away. It would be incredible.

-Griffin