Text

[aggressiveapathy]

ides of march again. happy one year to me. plus some, i guess. lost track with the whole banished to a new different stupid nightmare dimension. thing. the ides are closer to the first time i followed some weird guy home than the first time i went to a City bar.

kinda lame.

remember when pointless holidays used to mean something in this place.

VIDEO

[heartlessglitch]

[ the robot named danger is unamused. there is what appears to be a golden basketball-shaped thing with wings and a long tail nestled on top of her head in her cable-dreads. judging by the way she folds her arms pointedly over her chest, it doesn't please her. ]

I require assistance.
My database lacks references for proper maintenance of this creature.
His classification is "golem."
I cannot remove him.
And he will not stop putting his mouth on my projects.

[ a pause. ]

Alternatively, you may answer this inquiry:
Where is Cross Marian?

[ voice ] > dave: nobody wants to be the poop guy.

[hashrap]

Yo, what up city fulla superheroes? Since we're all pretty much the best at everything there is to be the best at, how about someone invent something for me. Something totally life-changing and integral to mankind's future ability to function. Here's the scoop:

My dog is, uh. Special? Kinda starting to realize that he thinks the backyard is a giant pentagram and if he steps outside to poop on the lawn Satan is gonna burst out the ground and drag him down into doggy hell. You know, where every meal is salad and the chew toys are made of steel? Yeah.

So, he thinks carpet is there to absorb his dumps and nobody else will let me pay them to pick up the shit for me. And I'm getting real tired of blaming it on the cats? One of them left a mouse head in my bed, à la Godfather-style, so I think they're on to me.

Anyway, who wants to make me a doggy diaper? Don't all raise your hands at once. I'd settle for a poop robot.