We're the comic dream team.

That's right, Beavis. We're pure gold. Pure, funny gold. We should get our own show on MTV. Because we're just so damn awesome!


Hey, wait. Who the hell are you? Why're you—why're you here? How'd you get on this blog? What is wrong with humanity?

Sorry. That was Butt-head up there. I've no idea how he got here. But he wasn't talking about us. Psh, we ain't a comic dream team that's deserving of a show on MTV.

But we did have someone read us. [Leik ohmagawrsh no way :O]
But you already knew that, didn't you? Kat messaged you on inkie, too.
I saw the messages.
I can't believe you're cheating on me, Beve.
I feel so betrayed.


But addressing your posts that I'm too lazy to comment on individually:

No, my true last name is not Briare scrambled up. It's my true last name scrambled up with a couple letters omitted and the addition of an extra r.
Makes Wenzhao seem not as omg-roll-call-it's-armageddon, huh?
And my Facebook settings are the default ones. Sorry if you can't message me, but honestly, do you think I'd want your useless literary flatulence harassing me on Facebook, too?

And your phone conversations are lame. My friend and I never do that. When it's time for us to hang up, it goes something like this:
Me: So... How's it going?
Friend: You asked that already.
Me: Okay... So... How's life?
Friend: That too.
M: Alright. So... How's—
F: I'm hanging up now.
M: Don't leave me.
F: I think I will.
M: Don't. Please?
F: No.
M: Fine, be that way.
F: I will.
M: Fine.
F: Fine.
*fast forward seven minutes*
M: Fine.
F: Fine
M: Fine.
F: I'm seriously hanging up now.
M: But whyyyyyyyyyyy?
F: You annoy me.
M: But howwwwwww?
F: I'm going to end this call now.
M: Fine.
F: Fine.

You get the picture, I hope.