Where The Fuck Is My Remote?

Where the fuck is my remote? I can't find it, and I've looked everywhere that I normally put it, and I'm sure that I didn't put it somewhere I normally don't. But apparently. I did. Otherwise I'd be able to locate my fucking remote. Currently, I am operating my TV with my toes. This is pretty inconvenient. I'd like my remote to no longer be lost. Hopefully it'll be located soon. For the good of my toes, because without a need to mention, I'm in a bad way.

So Ivan is tearing up Alabama. I'm glad it's not me for once. Frances fucked me up good, so I'm very, very glad it's not us that's getting hit this time. In fact, I'm glad Alabama/Louisiana is getting its ass raped. It's about time. They haven't had shit since 1965 and it's about time that they get their fair share. It's only fair. And fair is good.

That makes me think of something. Why is a Fair called a fair? Ahh I see. I looked up the definition. 'Fair' is apparently one of the words with meanings that people don't know about. Obscure meanings. By definition though, Fairs aren't very... fair. All the Fair's I've ever been to are dirty and nasty. And isn't it ironic that Fairs are absolutely cluster fucked with unfair games? Those games, all of them are absolutely fucked and if you play them, you should only do so with the intent to have fun losing, not with the intent to win a giant Sponge Bob. Fucking thieves. Carney's are dangerous. Know that.

Fuck I'm tired. I'm outta this biotch.