Pixel

Pixel Q. refuses to talk about himself. If thou wishest, thou may infer from his blog what thou wishest.

Chipmunks – precursors to autotune.

The lady cutting my hair smells like weed. I don’t know if I should be reassured or scared.

They say you don’t pay a prostitute for sex, you pay her to leave afterward. … but you should probably still tip her for the sex.

Here‘s a syllabus he made! It’s so nice and shiny. You should enroll in his class!

This guy has his daughter’s name tattooed on his neck. I hope his next child is quintuplets. #peopleoftacobell

Today I will work into conversation the phrase “molesting a muppet.” I imagine the context will be a strung-out Cookie Monster. Join me!

Whelp– Sleep didn’t happen tonight. We’ll try again tomorrow.

My mother just joined facebook. In related news: I will soon rely exclusively on Twitter.

“But if I lived with roommates, I wouldn’t be able to do my daily morning nude jumping jacks… I’m kidding: they’re evening jumping jacks.”