The 11th

So, it's September 11th.

We all know what happened this day four years ago. A tragedy, it was.

Enough said.

I've had more "The Family Guy" than I need. I'm gonna have to go into rehab.

Giggle. Ooooooh. That one was funny.

I had one heck of a wake-up this morning. I pried my eyes open sleepily and somewhat angrily to see what was the cause of the noise I was hearing in the back of my head. My keen ears deciphered these sound waves as being giggles from females. More fully awake now I saw a group of females all huddled up and chuckling at my sexy alertness and hairstyle.

Vile, I tell you. My sleeping habits should NEVER be observed.

Then Marco informs me that someone has scribbled something on my forehead. I was surprised that I could have been dull enough to let some sick soul paint his words on my forehead without my alert reflexes giving him a friendly punch.
I rushed to the bathroom mirror only to find a clean forehead and hear louder cackles of impish delight from my observers.

Sucker.

I'll just shut up before I quote something from "The Family Guy".

Looks like the trampoline is empty.