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I have several personalities, each of which I've let come out to play on my journal, from time to time.
There's Skippy the Skeptic, the personification of my inner skeptic. When he comes out, it's usually in the form of—
Really? We're going to do this again?
<sigh> Yes, Skippy.
I still loathe you for calling me Skippy, you know.
How well I do. Because you keep telling me. Over and over. And over.
So, after Skippy came Bradford, the personification of my inner child. I made a joke that my inner child is a 4-year-old brat. Later, he got a name.
WANNA 'NOTHER COOKIE!
Bradford, you can't—
BUT I WANNA!
He's just going to keep shouting until you give in, you know.
I'm nominally in charge, here, you know.
You would be if you'd ever bother to grow a pair.
Aaaand that would be Preston, the Procrastinator. Who is pretty much responsible for my epic ability to procrastinate. And who, for reasons unknown to me, insults me a lot.
I believe that a better word for what you do is 'perendinate,' which certainly describes your actions far better than 'procrastinate.'
Yes, Jürgen. As you probably already figured out, Jürgen is my inner grammar nazi.
You should capitalize 'Nazi.'
What if he doesn't feel like it, you Hitler-loving—
I'M BORED!
Shut up, Bradford!
Be quiet, child!
Waste of your time, Gentlemen.
Why did you capitalize 'gentlemen'? It should not be cap--
I did it just to annoy you.
What-evs. I'm outta here. There's, like, stuff to do. Tomorrow. Or maybe Sunday...
'Outta' is not a word!
<watches them all go> This is what it's like inside my head, some days.
You know, the days where I don't have a stuck song.
I believe you meant 'on which' instead of—
I will hurt you.
I have several personalities, each of which I've let come out to play on my journal, from time to time.
There's Skippy the Skeptic, the personification of my inner skeptic. When he comes out, it's usually in the form of—
Really? We're going to do this again?
<sigh> Yes, Skippy.
I still loathe you for calling me Skippy, you know.
How well I do. Because you keep telling me. Over and over. And over.
So, after Skippy came Bradford, the personification of my inner child. I made a joke that my inner child is a 4-year-old brat. Later, he got a name.
WANNA 'NOTHER COOKIE!
Bradford, you can't—
BUT I WANNA!
He's just going to keep shouting until you give in, you know.
I'm nominally in charge, here, you know.
You would be if you'd ever bother to grow a pair.
Aaaand that would be Preston, the Procrastinator. Who is pretty much responsible for my epic ability to procrastinate. And who, for reasons unknown to me, insults me a lot.
I believe that a better word for what you do is 'perendinate,' which certainly describes your actions far better than 'procrastinate.'
Yes, Jürgen. As you probably already figured out, Jürgen is my inner grammar nazi.
You should capitalize 'Nazi.'
What if he doesn't feel like it, you Hitler-loving—
I'M BORED!
Shut up, Bradford!
Be quiet, child!
Waste of your time, Gentlemen.
Why did you capitalize 'gentlemen'? It should not be cap--
I did it just to annoy you.
What-evs. I'm outta here. There's, like, stuff to do. Tomorrow. Or maybe Sunday...
'Outta' is not a word!
<watches them all go> This is what it's like inside my head, some days.
You know, the days where I don't have a stuck song.
I believe you meant 'on which' instead of—
I will hurt you.