Wits and Waste

o.o

About this, er, site

I am utterly appalled at the fact that I should use my over-worked labouring fingers and type. Especially for others to read. People would be amazed and get the foggiest idea of me having a heart. Y'know, thinking of others. But nah, this is mostly for my self-satisfactory gain and world domination, anyhow.
This place is like me: peculiar, apathetic, lethargic, famished. I wanted to expand to those adjectives to give myself a more intellectual feel, but, like I said, I'm those adjectives, and then some. What I don't like about sites is that when people see it, they stereotype you with the site, and what's on it. I feel that for lazy people like me not bothering to finish a sent- meh. This site is for everyone's souls to wander aimlessly and rot away tangled in the heaps of internet scum. Well, later. Heck, I'll procrastinate later.
The dang site is called Wits and Waste for a reason, guys. I just don't especially feel the motivation for the former at this moment, hence the latter. Oh, hey, if you haven't seen this before, I'll start by generously regurgitating the waste of this site by adding this pile of words so it looks like I wrote something productive, when I didn't even make this up:

If you were suddenly transported to the sun because of an evil scheme devised by an evil Russian chicken and asked to take off your clothes and make love to the burning flames and then recite the presidents in alphabetical order by their middle name whilst juggling 11 midgets holding soda cans between your two front teeth that will be operated on by 86 evil Czechoslovakian dentists named Farkus who got their degrees studying the taste buds of Tom Selleck at a college named after some guy who wasted away his life by eating pork rinds naked in his mom’s basement whilst searching for pictures of Kristen Dunst to use for purposes that cannot be explained by the 1972 Junior High class of some school that no one cares about in Eastern Idaho where woodland creatures choose to spend their lives trying to recreate some bad 1940’s soap opera instead of frolicking happily in the woods, would you prefer chocolate ice cream or vanilla?
Turns out the Russian Chicken was actually German, and was found later in KFC creating concentrated chicken cramps.

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... It's mostly just waste right now.

Updates

04/27/10
Busy as hell, reason why this site is not.

04/20/10
Fixed the "About" page... need to put more useless crap in to give it some oomph.

04/19/10
Stopped it from looking like a virus-bug-site