Products of a deranged mind...When Munch painted this version of The Scream, with it he attached this caption:

"I was walking along a path with two friends—the sun was setting—suddenly the sky turned blood red—I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence—there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city—my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety—and I sensed an infinite lazor passing through nature."

Have fun! Saturn Devouring His Son, Goya's creation when he was feeling down. Be happy and juggle instead of painting angsty stuff on your house walls like he did.

I sat in the waiting room, ready to get a flu shot. A mother and her child were grappling over a lollipop the kid had got for being the best patient ever! Snarling like rabid pigs, they gouged eyes, clawed at hair, when suddenly, the lollipop flew through the air and under the chair. I watched as they shoved me aside, the mother ripping off the wrapper. She was about to swallow the piece of saccharine, stick and all, before a finger jabbed up her nostril. Involuntarily, she lashed out, and the lollipop shattered on the kid's spleen.

The two glared at other, before bending over and licking up the pieces. Bored, I looked at the TV, which was playing Tomorrow's Pioneers. Farfour leered and spouted racial epithets. There were no magazines, save an issue of Pregnancy. Making sure none of my peer's ruthless eyes were upon me, I casually flipped through pages ranting about the overachieving nature of older siblings and the inherently prodigal younger children.

Suddenly, "----, you can get your flu shot now," the receptionist said. I rudely barged through the swinging door and knocked over the scale, which startled several children leaning over an aquarium and plucking fish. The helpless teleosti plunged into their gaping maws, reeking of macaroni and cheese. I entered the vaccination room. "Ready for your vaccination?" asked the nurse?

"HELL YES!" I roared. I dilated my nostrils to a monstrous size, allowing the nasal spray to fly into my nose unimpeded. "Thank you come again," she said. I waited for my piece of candy. When she explained that I was too old for silly little things like that, I threw a tantrum, used a biohazard bucket as a hat, and ran around the hospital screaming my heart out.

Juggling is one of the most addicting activities, for unexplained reasons. Today, as I threw seven heavily taped balls (I refuse to use "props") into the air time and time again, only to have most of them plummet to the floor repeatedly, I wondered how I had gotten to this stage and why I considered this fun. I would "flash" 7 balls for up to an hour, meaning throwing each object once and then catching them. In the time span of sixty minutes, I was able to catch all seven balls three times. Was it worth it? Of course.

It all started when some kid came into our fifth grade class with some garishly colored balls. "I am going to juggle," he said. Our class raucously jeered at him while throwing scissors at him. "Get off the frigging stage, you clown," we bellowed. He looked affronted at our rudeness before throwing his balls into the air. "Ha ha," we all chorused," how homoerotic." Annoyed, he threw his balls to an increasing height and beat us up before catching them again.

"Come on," we chanted as he did different tricks," Drop it! Drop the - balls!" He continued, unruffled as we pegged him with pencils and rulers. Finally, when a corner of a flying textbook smacked into his eye, he cried out, covered his disabled eyeball dripping vitreous fluids, and dropped his balls. "Ha ha," we screamed," you suck so bad at juggling."

He glared at us and said," Like you can juggle, you stupid snotrags."

"Sure we can!" we protested, each of us grabbing 2 balls and juggling them in a shower pattern," Look, we're juggling!" For the record, that stupid pattern where you pass the ball to your other hand is not juggling.

Anyways, I wasn't able to juggle until long after that incident, and probably slowed myself down by doing that stupid 2 ball shower pattern. The catalyst that allowed me to emerge from this period of ignorance was a regional science bowl competition that my sister went to. A freebie that was given to everyone attending were three juggling balls. I now had the supplied necessary to fulfill this childish quest.

I'm not sure what motivated me to start seriously juggling, but my dad may have had something to do about it. "Someday, when you go to parties," my dad solemnly said as I stared blankly," You're going to have to entertain people somehow. Talk."

"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet," I droned before my dad clapped his hands to his ears and said," Ford! Shut up! Okay, enough of that. Evidently, you can't talk. Dance."

My dad watched me engage in some kind of epileptic trance, as my muscles contorted and twitched uncontrollably. Snarling in exasperation, he asked," what kind of abomination is this piece of -?"

Unperturbed, I said," It's some random dance we learned in P.E" As I continued twitching, my dad's eyes rolled into the back of his head while his tongue lolled out as saliva dripped off. "Anything else?" he murmured. "Singing?" I pondered, and before he could tell me to shut up, I was belting out my version of Bohemian Rhapsody, causing everyone's eardrums to implode. "Meh, you can't sing, talk, or dance, or any other stuff essential for social stuff. Therefore, you should try to learn how to juggle."

I'm sure what I'm doing wasn't what he had ever envisioned, because now he always threatens to confiscate my balls (ha ha, so witty), and constantly pleading," just learn five" as he watched my pitiful attempts to juggle 7 balls.

What have I achieved with juggling? With juggling, I improved my reflexes. For example, the other day, I was showering, an annual chore that I loathed, when I knocked over a bottle of shampoo. It fell to the mercy of gravity before I caught it. If you're clumsy enough, this will happen quite often, and you can impress your friends with this and your juggling skills. As for such things as "building self-confidence" and "increasing self-esteem," that is a blatant lie. No, you feel inept when you begin juggling, and you feel even more inept once you discover that juggling is more than throwing a bunch of balls in a big circle by that scary person wearing the mask of makeup.

Meanwhile, juggling is spreading like a pestilence among my friends. The renaissance of juggling has begun at my school. One has no idea at the thrill I feel when I see droves of humans dropping balls into the concrete, loud slaps on the pavement as inedible silica beads pour out of garishly colored balls. Skulls smashed in by clubs, hands slashed by rings, bodies dismembered by chainsaws; they all make me feel alive. Whenever I converted yet another person to this useless pursuit, I truly followed my bliss. If I could be remembered as someone responsible for even the most infinitesimal sliver of the juggling revolution here, that would make my day. So what was the most obvious course of action to take from there? Make a juggling club to spread this useless skill across the school. A rake that I had taught how to juggle, unfortunately, was the only person who seemed to share a zeal for creating this organization. This shameful unstromatolite had proclaimed Chris Bliss to be the greatest thing since the Mills Mess, a trick he can't even do correctly. With much reluctance, I got club forms and collaborated with him on getting 100 signatures from the student body.

It was difficult; sometimes we were rejected by a kick in the rear, but most of the time, we were dismissed as some circus rejects. We were stripped down to our underwear and forced to stand in a street corner wearing a huge dunce cap for hours on end. We were ostracized and forced to live in the school toilets. With some unethical advertising methods though, we were able to fill up the list. Our struggle to create this club continues to this day. To those who claim that we are doing this only for our college applications, I piss on your beards.

Holy crap, I haven't updated for quite some time. Guess what? More juggling fail.