The Twelfth Day Of Regretmas: The Final Countdown

24 Dec

“Twelve”. What a strange word. Look at it. Just look at it. “Twelve”. “Tweeeeeelve”. Twelve, twelve, twelve, twelve.

TWELVE. TwElVe. Twelve. Twelve! TWELVEEEEE.

Twelve twelve twelve twelve.


Anyway, happy 700th post.

Now that we’re finally done with “The Twelve Days Of Regretmas”, I can honestly say that if anyone ever suggests something like that ever again, I am going to punch them in the wang. (Women will also be punched in the wang.)

Couple things I’ve learned during the course of Regretmas: Trying to write 12 feature length posts in a row without repeating myself is the quickest way to accidentally taking up self harm, bar discovering that you used 2 hours of your life watching Spring Breakers.

And no, I’m not reviewing this. YOU DON’T PAY ME ENOUGH.

Second Thing Learned: Reviewing Life Of Deaths got me simultaneously revered and insulted. So, either I need to review the next episode… or torch YouTube, salt the earth, and run screaming.

Numero Threeso: … That’s a word, right?

Don’t check that.


You’re not invited to my birthday party any more.

Anyway, NUMBER THREE! I cannot rhyme. Rhyming is not a thing. Not any more. I’ve destroyed it. I took the concept of rhyming, and I broke it. With a rock. And incompetence. And a sharknado. All at once. An incompetent rocksharknado of rhyming.

(And also, evidently, basic sentence structure was caught in that clusterfuck as well.)

Number Four: Silent Hill needs to be in this site more. Murphy Pendleton and I are going to get very, very acquainted very, very soon.

That sounded more rapey than I intended.

And everyone knows it’s SUNDERLAND who people rape! … What, nobody?

Number five: Trying to add in GIFs causes my entire site to meltdown. To which I am blaming… well, pretty much anyone who isn’t me.

And finally… I’ve learnt that I should never schedule my 700th post on Christmas Eve! So, I’m calling this a wrap!

Merry Christmas, motherfuckers!

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