These are the thoughts spawned from Plummie's Demented Mind when she misses three days of sleep and is hopped up on caffeine. These are actually things I have thought about when lying in bed and waiting for the clowns to come out of my closet and eat my brain.

       Warning: Contains some Atheist type stuff...I don't want to offend.  I love all religions!  Especially that fun Scientology bit...oh, and um...Republicans...might wanna skip this entirely...hehe.

         Evidence heavily suggests that Hitler, in fact, was a self-hating caterpillar.

         The Teddy Bear is not actually named for Teddy Roosevelt, as originally thought. Teddy was the name of the guy arrested for bestiality in Yellowstone Park. He invented teddy bears in prison. Guess what they were used for.

         In a controversial memo, it was revealed that the oregano on Domino’s pizza was not, in fact, oregano, but marijuana. This was aimed at getting as many people addicted to Domino’s as humanly possible, including minors.

         King Arthur was not, in fact, actually a king. His name was really Brett, and King Arthur was his stripper name.

         Cyborgs do not enjoy being poked with sticks.

         It has been proven that genetic engineering yields nothing but animals with a taste for human flesh and bad CGI effects.

         Space aliens come from very small towns and are very bored. That is why they turn cows inside out and abduct rednecks. That’s the alien equivalent of cow-tipping.

         The guy on Blue’s Clues is certifiably insane. He sits in an empty room and talks to a blue screen for a living.

         Gandhi wasn’t really on a hunger strike. He was just poor and couldn’t afford food.

         Before the Bible was edited, God said unto Moses, “Take your people into the Land of Beer, Cheetos and Casual Fridays! Oh, and unicorn rides for everyone on Sundays.”

         In a related note, Unicorns are extinct because a bunch of people fat on beer and cheetos sat on them.

         The expression “The Pot calling the Kettle black,” was shortened from “The Pot called the Kettle black and got seriously f-ed up by the Kettle’s friends for being a racist.”

         Hair is a fraud. Supposedly, it’s supposed to keep you warm, yet, Eskimos never have beards.

          (This is an excerpt from my paper in sociology class, answering the question: What effects do you believe genetic engineering will have on people? I got an A, by the way. A friend suggested I include it on my 3 am thoughts page, since it’s that insane.)

         Have a portly, chubby child who doesn’t so much as walk as waddle down to the fridge? Tired of those ‘other’ summer Fat camps claiming that they can induce your child to get the weight off and keep it off, but ultimately, fail to do so? Revolutionary diet expert, Dan “Velociraptor” Cummins, has developed a new system that’s ABSOLUTELY guaranteed to ensure a significantly lighter child by the end of the summer.

         Thanks to the folks at International Genetics Inc., who have made huge leaps in the genetics field, Velociraptor Dan’s Camp for Portly Children is able to utilize the skills of a species long extinct from the planet to ensure your child’s fitness. And not only that, but your child will learn survival and team-work skills that will stand him/her well in their adult lives.

         How does this method work, you ask? Well, by simply releasing the children into an isolated locations, several hundred miles from any civilization, with a crudely drawn map and two cans of Dinty Moore stew each and mosquito spray laced with Velociraptor pheromones, the portly children are ready to face their summer challenge! Namely, to evade, outsmart and outlast a flock of twenty Velciraptor Mongoliensis in the wild.

         The pounds will simply drop from your child’s lard ass as they are forced to run through miles and miles of swamp and woods. They will become stronger, faster and smarter as they are hunted by the ruthless killers, otherwise, they will face extinction themselves! You will simply be shocked by the results if your lard-ass child happens to survive the two month Velociraptor hunt. And if your child doesn’t happen to survive, well, there’s no money back, since the masticated body is SURE to weigh less than when the child arrived, fulfilling our promise. And guaranteed, if you see your child reaching for that twinkie, a simple “Hmm…maybe I should call Velociraptor Dan…” will have him/her screaming in horror and throwing the sugary treat away. He/She will never put on their former weight again in terror of another summer at Velociraptor Dan’s!

         So, act now! Enroll your child into Velociraptor Dan’s Camp for Portly Children. The first child to reach the two hundred mile finish line is given free six months of intensive therapy to deal with the horrific memories of watching his friends being viciously slaughtered by a group of remorseless reptiles.

         Hear what former camp mates have to say about the Velociraptor Dietary Program!

          “I may be horribly, horribly scarred for life and have no hope of procreation with a member of the opposite sex due to my appearance, but I lost the pounds and kept them off! Thanks, Velociraptor Dan!”

          -Ned “OH MY GOD, IT’S EATING MY FACE!” Flannerty, Sarasota, Florida.

          “Oh…sweet God…I can still hear my friends screaming in the night…Billy? Where’s Billy!? Has anyone seen my brother?!”

          -Jackie Anderson, New Jersey State Mental Institution

          “Would I send my children to Velociraptor Dan’s Camp for Portly Children if I couldn’t afford liposuction instead? Ummm…yeah…sure. Okay.”

          -William Tinney, Vice President of International Genetics, Inc

         And remember to sew labels into all your children’s clothing. It makes it easier to identify the putrefying remains.

         Velociraptor Dan Cummins and International Genetics Inc. accepts no responsibility for deaths, injuries and psychological trauma of the children undergoing our special ‘Velociraptor’ dietary program. However, if a Velociraptor is harmed by your child by either 1.) Choking, or 2.) High Cholesterol due to eating your chubby kid, your are financially responsible for replacing the damaged animal.

        Platypi are evil! Yeah, I know, it sounds crazy...but hear me out. They're like...some freaky-ass duck/beaver hybrid! Why in the hell would an animal have to be both a duck and a beaver? I'll tell you why. Because they're planning on building dams ALL over the world, flooding it and therby drowning the human race. Then they'll swim around, merrily eating our rotting, soggy flesh at their leisure. Some of you might argue that platypi don't build dams, but that's just what they want you to think! Act now and stop the new Platypi World Order while we still can!!!

       I love the word 'Squishy!' I think everyone needs to start saying it in EVERY sentence! Like...'I'm feeling squishy good today!' 'I want you to meet my squishy best friend!' 'My ass looks squishy in these pants!' Start doing it today and guarenteed, everyone will stop talking to you! (Oh...did I forget to mention that I'm anti-social. Heh.)

       Thank GOD that stupid ass, 'Free Pizza Day' thing over at Domino's is finally over! If one more friggin' person called and asked if it was 'Free Pizza Day' and started laughing and snorting on the phone, I was going to write down their addresses and take chainsaws to their stumpy little legs! ARGH!

       GIVE ME CANDY, YOU UNDESCENDED MONKEY NUT!! CANDY! CANDY! CANDY!

       I used to be a potatoe in a past life. Does that mean I'm a cannibal when I eat chips? And is that why I have an irrational fear of Irish people?

       Is it normal to wish that other people would commit suicide?

       Someone asked me what my fondest wish was the other day. I guess 'James Marsters naked, tied to my bed, professing his undying love as I slather him in honey and chocolate sauce and he starts begging me to lick it off his rock-hard abs,' wasn't the answer my grandma was looking for. Hopefully, she'll come out of that coma before my birthday.

       My father took me to see Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle a couple weeks ago. They still haven't found his body.

       I think I'm insulted. No one took me up on my offer of twenty dollars for a tape of me doing naked jumping-jacks and rubbing jam on my boobies. Bastards. Thanks to you all, I have jelly on my boobs and NO MONEY!

       I have a special favor to ask of Kevin Costner. STOP DIRECTING! When you announce your new movie as "Directed by Kevin Costner", it doesn't entice us to the theatre! It just reminds us of how badly 'Waterworld' and 'The Postman' sucked cheese-flavored testicles!

       People who don't get my jokes are either stupid or insane.

       I think I'm getting bitter about my job. I got in trouble the other day when I made a smart-ass remark to a customer on the phone. They called and asked if we had pizza and I replied, 'Of course not! This is Domino's Pizza! We only serve tofu and rice! I would tell you to call Pizza Hut, but I have it on good authority that they only serve macroni and spam-spam-wonderful-spam!' My manager and I had a looonnnggg talk about that one. Sheesh...try to bring a sense of whimsy to a job...

       I think it's time that cars come complete with 'Road Rage Missles.' So, the next time that asshole in the Mustang cuts you off and nearly makes you swerve off the road, you just hit a little red button and his car becomes nothing but flaming debris on the highway. Actually...no. I changed my mind. Only MY car should come with 'Road Rage Missles.' Be afraid...be very afraid, little old lady doing 20 MPH in a 50 MPH zone!!!! MUWHAHAHAHAHA!

       I'm looking in your window right now and...EEEEWWWWW! Put on some pants, you FREAK!

       Is it wrong to want to build a cookie altar and sacrifice oreos to it? Methinks there's a thin line between sacriligious and just plain messed up.

       Oh Jesus...my remote just ran out of juice and it's stuck on 'The Nanny'! MY EARS! MY PRECIOUS EARS! MAKE FRAN DRESCHER STOP LAUGHING FOR CHRISSAKES!!

       I have Smurfs in my pants! Hmmmmmmmmmm........yeah....

       Okay...that Smurf thing grossed ME out too.

       Medical question: Are my eyes supposed to burst into flames and my brain start to hurt whenever I hear or see Kelly Ripa?

       Jesus...Roseanne is guest-starring on 'The Nanny!' That's TOO much annoying! Oh why, oh why does my TV have to be ALL the way on the other side of the room!?

       I wish men were pinatas. At least when you have the urge to smack them, you might get candy out of it.

       My two cats are currently having a disagreement about who gets to sit on my lap. Normally, I'd think it was incredbily cute, but since they're using their claws to keep from being shoved off my legs and the arterial bleeding in my thigh just stained my new khakis, I think I may to kill them before I pass out from blood loss.

       I bet you didn't know you could overdose on B-horror movies, did ya? About the time I watched Evil Dead for the hundredth time and watched House on Haunted Hill for the third (Original, not crappy remake, despite three minutes of James Marsters-y goodness in first scene), I started vomiting blood and became convinced that spiders were trying to get me to kill people. My psychatrist just says that's the scrizaphrenia talking, but what does he know? How can I have scrizaphrenia? I can't even spell it!

       I know it sounds crazy...but I just don't see what's so wrong about stuffing Tostios in your underwear and using my bellybutton for a salsa dish.

       I wonder...can you fingerprint a weasel?

       Just out of curiousity...do you think a jury would buy that a surly mob of transient Lemurs blew through town, chopped my sister up with a chainsaw and hid her body beneath the floorboards of my bedroom? If not, than at least I can probably use that for a good insanity defense.

       Heh...Lemurs are funny.

       Did you know that butt-cheese isn't the same as pizza cheese and that some people really insist that it's not a proper pizza topping? Pffttt...philistines.

       Did you know that if you take an ordinary houseplant, crossbred it with a cat, than crossbred that with a Komodo dragon and crossbred that with a sea urchin, your new pet would scare the crap out of the Christian Right groups? Or possibly just some pathetic houseplant/cat/Komodo Dragon/Sea Urchin creature that'll beg for you to kill it. Either way, it's fun playing God! Whee!

       I want to market my own line of body lotion. I think I'll call them 'Plummie's Cream.' Ehhh...on second thought...I think I might be disturbed by the type people that'd buy it.

       My ass fat is decidedly anti-Muppet.

       In case you were wondering, bald people dislike it when you use their reflective, shiny skin to apply lipstick.

       I don't know why, but cous-cous is SO fun to say!

       They should make a horror movie with Republicans stalking Democrat-Liberals and trying to strangle them with the Constitution. That would scare the SHIT out of me! *Shudders*

       One of these days I'm going to finally *snap* and start taking people out. My preferred method of execution will be shooting Rice Crispy squares at people with my slingshot. Yeah, it's damned annoying and the marshmallows might get stuck in your hair, but I don't think the cops can use snipers on ya for it.

       You know what's the WORSE thing you can see when you're paying out the nose to get a college education to become an English teacher? Seeing your old, retired English teacher working as a Wal-Mart greeter. If any of y'all see the poor Plum working at Wal-Mart when she's seventy, as proper thanks for providing you with Smutty stories...please, KILL ME!

Lines I Wished I Heard At The Movies

       Titanic: If you love me so goddamn much, why don't you scoot your ass over and let me up on that freakin' door, you frigid witch!?

       Lord Of the Rings: Sorry, Legolas...you lost the bet. Now you have to strip naked and dance around naked for the next three hours. (WHEE!)

       Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle: Due to techinical difficulties, this movie will not be shown at this time. And Ashton Kutcher caught a STD from Demi Moore.

       2 Weeks Notice: What do you mean I'm being sued for sexual harrassement!?

       Maid In Manhattan: Thank God the newspapers are focusing on my affair with the maid and not the millions of dollars I embezzeled from the taxpayers.

       Jurassic Park 3: Dr. Grant! The raptors just tore apart Tea Leoni!

THE CHRONICLES OF SATAN AND PLUMMIE!

(Or actual author notes that accompained my stories, plus some new ones!)

       So, Satan is just pretending he doesn't know me anymore, that friggin' little Prima-Donna. Like it's MY fault that God said he was a complete pansy-waist and I didn't say anything back!? He's GOD! Of Course I'm not arguing with him! The last people who argued with him were flambed in Sodom and Gomorrah! And don't even get me started on the risk of drowning!

       Okay, so, Satan and I were at the mall, trying to find him a nice outfit for a cocktail party coming up in the Eighth Ring, when this REALLY skanky girl walks by and makes a comment about his skin color. So, I was all like...YO! Bitch! This is my boy, Satan! Just 'cause he's red doesn't mean you get to make fun of him! He was kicked off of his land, and his people are now forced to live in like...Lava Pits and shit! And then Satan was all like, 'Whoa! Plum! Calm Down! I can handle this!' ANd he incinerated her after she sold her soul for a pair of Old Navy Khakis. The moral of this story? OLD NAVY IS EVIL! Plus, the Eighth ring throws the BEST keggers. Screw the Seventh Ringers. They only serve wine coolers and brie.

       Okay...so, Satan and I are hanging outside of Marti Noxon's house last night (She sold her soul seven years ago for a tic-tac before her job interview with Joss) and Marc Blucas walks in! I was all like...whooooaa...cool! Can we smite them? Please, please! Can we smite them? But stupid Satan says that only GOD can smite people. *Snorts* ANd I was all like...ooohhh yeah, that's right...he burns entire cities full of people, turns people into salt, makes some dude blind and killed a guy for masturbating...and you turned yourself into a snake. HOW did you become the Lord of Darkness ANYHOW?! Pffttt...I can SO take Satan in a fight...oh...where was I? Oh yeah, Marti and Marc...so...I'm all pissy cause The EVIL One can't even do a little bit of smiting for his bestest-best friend, when Marc all of a sudden transforms into MORGAN FAIRCHILDE!!! And Marti turned into Magic, THe Old Navy Dog. See?! I told you Old Navy was EVIL! EVIL I TELL YOU! EVIL!!!!

       Me and Satan were deciding best how to torture you guys this time around when my mom busts in my room, and starts screaming. Seems like that Satan accidently left the toilet seat up, and the toilet ate my little sister. She was REALLY pissed when I started laughing my ass off and even Satan was snickering a little bit. Anyway, my mom made us go play outside, cause it was a beautiful sunny day and I'm too pale and needed the sun. We're just chillin', soakin' up the rays when JAMES MARSTERS walks up and is all gorgeous and stuff, making me like...*melt*. Then he starts shoutin' at me and Satan, all like 'I know you're the ones going through my garbage and selling my coffee filters on EBAY!' I pretended to not know what he was talking about and asked for him to autograph my boobs...then Satan got all jealous, saying that I never ask *him* to sign my boobs. I was a like. 'Satan, you're my friend...I'm not letting you near my boobs, that would so just ruin our friendship.' Then he got alll mad and started freaking out on me and then turned James Marsters into David Borneaz, but you know, DB, thirty years from now, complete with receding hairline and beer belly and a 'I love BJ Cummins' shirt. He wouldn't turn him back till I let him sign my boobs...but the thing is, he uses a branding iron for autographs. So, sorry folks...James Marsters will now be played by a sixty year old David Borneaz with a beer belly. Hope that's not a problem.

       Okay...so, Satan's all freaked out right about now. It appears that as if *some* people didn't like the ending to the last story. I hope you guys are all happy. He's sitting beneath my desk, crying cause EVERYBODY hates him and he's eating all my Milky Ways! DAMN YOU ALL! And James turned DB with Beer Belly is eating all my Peanut Butter M&Ms. He's bitching at me because I STILL won't let Satan sign my boobs with the branding iron. Hey...I want him back to his sexy self and slathered in honey as much as ANYBODY, but come on! I only have TWO boobs, and BARELY that! So, anyway, I thought this night was just kinda sucky...but then JOSS comes over...and now he's all pissed cause he found out that I was just using him to get to James. Welll...DUH! So, between James bitching about his beer belly, Satan crying like a little bitch with a skinned knee, and Joss whining that he's not my little boo-boo pickle bear anymore, I've had a BAD NIGHT! On the bright side, I developed a new chant that's guareenteed to net me some mindless minions that I can use for neferious purposes. Now, follow my lead: The Plum is Good, the Plum is Great, the Plum says: Sex can wait! Masturbate!' Repeat one thousand times or until you're my mindless minions. Thankie Spankie!

       Okay, so, James is all cool and stuff...but he's eating all of my M&Ms. I may have to sell him on Ebay, but I'm worried the bald spot and beer belly is going to hurt his resale value. Damn you, Satan! Why must you make me choose between my boobies and James!? Bitch, I will slap you later.

       Okay, so, Satan and I were chilling out tonight, watching Birds of Prey on TV (And by the way? Confusing name much? One's a cat, and one's the former Bat Girl and there's like...psychic girl or something...Where in the HELL do they get the name Birds of Prey?!) Anyway, we were watching this all freakin' confused while I iced my poor boobies (I hope y'all happy...I finally let him sign them...someone please introduce Satan to the concept of Sharpie!) when my dad walks into my room. Between me with the ice pack shoved down my bra, Satan guzzling my Cherry cooke and staring at the ice pack shoved down my bra, and the naked, honey-slathered James chained to my bed, something just must've POPPED in the old man's head. If you haven't seen a guy's eyes start to bleed at the same time as his ears and nose, then you REALLY haven't been traumatized. So, now I'll spending a couple days a week visiting my dad in the mental ward. Wow...who knew hanging out with the Prince of Darkness and a bare- assed naked man would have that kind of reaction from my father? Hm...go figure.

       Okay, so, Satan and I are on the outs again. We had a little disagreement. He claimed that he invented the post-it note and I said he didn't. I mean...PLEASE! How EVIL is the friggin' post-it-note?! No one says OMG! RUN! It's Satan's POST IT NOTE! I mean, come on, really! Who is he trying to kid?! Blah...but that's okay, me and James are getting all nice and cozy...he said if I unchain him, he'll consider marrying me. HA! Like I'm going to fall for that one again! I told him, it's wedding vows in chains, or it's NOTHING. Ours is a starcrossed love.

       Okay, so, migraine aside, I've been having a good few days. You know...up till last night, when Satan announced I was to be his virgin bride. WHAT A DICK! Apparently, that was the ONLY reason he was hanging out with me! To make sure I didn't get all frisky with the guys and ruin his plan to bring forth the antichrist and end the world! When I asked, why me?! I'm your friend! He said, and I quote: 'Do you know how f*cking hard it is to find a REAL life virgin of the age of consent these days?!' Apparently, the FBI was starting to ride him because he kept asking people in chatrooms if they were virgins. Uh...I guess I can understand that. So...um...when the world's consumed by flames and the dark, lost souls of hell, you'll know I finally got some nookie. Yeah...how's THAT for imagery you didn't need?!

       Okay, being the virgin bride of Satan isn't all it's cracked up to be. People keep flinging holy water at me when they see me on the street, my Catholic friends won't talk to me, and Satan won't let me have a Harem. WHAT is the point of being the mother of the antichrist if I can't even have a HAREM!? Anyway, he says I can have James when the end of the world comes...but a demon told me that a friend of his brother heard from his college roommate's friend that Satan is going to make James a Eunuch before I get him! Me and Satan are going to be having ourselves some WORDS!

       Okay, so, I'm hanging out in Hell, waiting for my Wedding from Hell, when J.C. HISSELF comes down to visit and offer his congratulations on the less-then-joyous union. He's a pretty rockin' guy, and he's cutting me a deal on the catering costs! He'll sell me ONE bottle of wine, ONE fish dinner plate, with salad, and ONE loaf of cheesy, garlic bread...but get this...the guy says he can stretch that out for the five thousand guests attending! WHOA! Blow my mind, people. This guy is like...the Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Cooking Channel, let me tell you! Definitatly a better deal then that Emeril dude and the One Fat Lady was offerin'. Okay, but there is ONE catch...he wants to sit with the kids from Hanson. (Don't look at me, I didn't invite them...Satan said he had to have at least SOME of his clients attending...I'm not sitting by Michael Jackson, that's all I'm saying about that!) I think J.C. just wants to become the fourth member of Hanson...I mean, the guy could pass for one of them, with the long hair and shiznit...he might have to lose the goatee, though. I question his sanity, but hey! Who am I to question the musical leanings of the Son of God?

       This whole wedding deal is getting REALLY annoying. Satan wants Lilies of the Valley for our flower arrangements, and I want red roses...now he's bitching that there's not enough money in the Coffers of Hell for the wedding dress I want! I told him to borrow the money from Donald Trump, (Who, incidently, is busy building the first casino in Hell.) But nooo...he's 'Satan! I have pride! I can't borrow money from people! It doesn't look right!' Pfffft! Considering that during the ceremony, his virgin bride will be pretending that he's a little less red and more pale, with tousled blonde locks and washboard abs that I can just lick, lick, lick...hmmmm...Jaammeessss......um...crap. Where was I? Oh, screw it...ummm...if anyone needs me...I'll be in the shower with the massaging head. WHEE!

Top 11 Signs you're obsessed with James Marsters (Or Spike.)

       1. You spend over $300 dollars on candles a month, just so that your apartment has that 'dank, dirty, kind of creepy' crypt feel to it.

       2. Your family vacation consists of you and your children standing outside of his house and sleeping in his flowerbed. When one of your children dies of pneumonia, you try to convince James to allow you to spread the ashes in the flowerbed where, 'he spent the best last days of his life.'

       3. Every time someone asks your advice, you refer to your own private credo, 'What Would Spike Do?' Your psychology practice dwindles, while the missing persons' statistics rise, as most of your patients are now chaining their exes up in the basements in an attempt to gain love and acceptance.

       4. While at first, your boyfriend was intrigued by your vampire/Slayer fantasy games, he soon starts having misgivings about your relationship. Especially when you start introducing him to your friends and family as 'Spike, the Scourge of Europe.' However, when you add 'And owner of the biggest stake in Sunnydale,' he decides that his real name was overrated anyway.

       5. The FBI claims that there is no such thing as the Initiative or behavior modification chips, and 'NO! There isn't a government conspiracy to cover up the existence of Sunnydale and the REAL Hostile 17! So, please! Stop calling us!' Your attempts to get a hold of Fox Mulder to investigate the OBVIOUS cover up are equally fruitless.

       6. You try to convince your husband to change his name, just so you can hear people call you, 'Mrs. James Marsters.'

       7. Now, whenever James hears your name, he breaks out in a cold sweat and then curls up in the corner and cries.

       8. You paid $900 for a fu-ugly couch covered with questionable stains just because it belonged to James Marsters. It's the only piece of furniture covered with plastic that no one is allowed to sit on, but you.

       9. When no one is home, you sniff the $900 fu-ugly couch; you spend time in a hospital after the noxious fumes of the bachelor pad furniture knocks you unconscious. You're at it again the next day.

       10. When you get pregnant, the list of possible names include 'Spike, William the Bloody, James Marsters, Scourge of Europe and Rudolph.' Eighteen years later, your son, 'Spike William the Bloody James Marsters Scourge of Europe' wishes desperately that you had named him Rudolph.

       11. You run a site dedicated to James Marsters 'cock sock.' (Okay…I'm not kidding about this. There is a site dedicated to it

Resuming with regular three AM thoughts

       Is it just me…or does Tobey McGuire remind anyone else of a cross between Anne Heche and a nervous Chihuahua with a tendency to wet itself?

       People constantly ask me, 'Plum? Where do you get your WONDERFUL ideas for stories from?' Well...I was wondering whether or not to divulge my secret...but then, I said to myself, 'Plum! You have all this inspiration, and really, it's good to share so that others can get in on this wonderful secret!' So, here it is! Prozac! Lots and LOTS of Prozac! Without it, I'd spiral down in to a deep, black chasm of despair and madness! (Whimpers) And then the trolls would eat my flesh. Oh God...I'm almost out...send more! STAT!

       Fun fact: I used to be illiterate. THANK YOU HOOKED ON CANADIAN PHONICS WHICH HAS DIFFERENT SPELLING THEN AMERICAN PHONICS SO NOW I'M REALLY REALLY CONFUSED!

       I like being spanked. (Giggle)

       I'm marrying Satan only because I'm planning on kidnapping James Marsters, and he's in on it. That way, he can't testify against me in court. THANK YOU AMERICAN LAW SYSTEM LOOPHOLES!

       Joss Whedon is slowly sucking away my life-force and pissing it away on Fire Fly. For the love of GOD, kill me now!

       I like to take blackberry jam and spread it allllll over my pert, nubile breasts and then do slow jumping jacks in front of a camcorder. Twenty bucks a tape...come on, you KNOW you want it! Send me to Tampa!

        I once went up to an old lady, and told her that there was a purple alien gestating in my skull, and it was begining to crawl it's way out through my eyeballs, and that it made me crave gummi bears smothered in gravy and orange marmalade. I then grabbed my face, screamed, and squeezed a bag of raspberry jelly so that it leaked out between my fingers. She tried to one up me by grabbing her chest and screaming that she was having a heart attack; then the paramedics came. Damn. She was good.

        WHOSE YO' DADDY?! WHOSE YO' DADDY!? THAT'S RIGHT! I'M YO' DADDY, BIATCH!

        Bush: Learned governmental procedures from Hooked On Phonics. Scared yet?

        Pathetic at it's worst: The other day I was in a good mood; my friend thought it was a sign of an impending apocalypse.

        Pathetic Once More: I told a manic depressive about my day at work. They felt much better in comparison.

        I fear Ritz Crackers.

        Is it bad that my mom reminds me of Roseanne Barr?

        Or that my dad reminds me of Ellen DeGeneres?

        Did you know that you can buy baby fetuses in a jar with extra eyes or other extreme deformaties off the internet? I'm getting one for my next family reunion. I'll tell everyone he's my little brother Mike, and we'll play frisbee, and then he'll run the three-legged race by himself.

        My mom didn't think it was funny that when I told her I was going to my room to play with my shotgun, and find out if my big toe will fit on the trigger. She was really pissed when I told her I wasn't suicidal, but if she heard a loud noise, she should bring a mop and bucket with her. I'm meeting my new psychriatrist on Wednesday.

        WHHHHEEEEEEE! I'm naked!

        Aleababe challenged me to write a sequel to Mirror, Mirror. Starring Spike, Buffy and a horse. Watch for A Mirror, A Slayer, A Vampire and Mister Ed. Coming SOON! HAHAHAHA!

        The voices in my head compel me to play with matches, light people on fire and rub my naked, nubile body down with honey and sand. Is that weird?

        I'm kidding about the Mister Ed story. No one's that demented. Except maybe for Laure Alexander. Lady, I read your Dru-sheep story and am officially tramuatized. The rest of you guess at what I'm talking about and why I now fear sheep.

        I just found out that idle hands are the Devil's playground. Huh. And here I thought it was Euro-Disney.

        Oooooo Spike...you're the big bad...you are the big bad!

        Dick Clark has to be the Devil. The dude hasn't aged for three hundred and sixty-three years!

        Why do celebrities insist on making us watch their rectal, testicular or vaginal surgeries? I prefer my celebrities mysterious...and being able to look at them without thinking, 'Dude...I saw up your anus, man!'

        I'M GOING TO SHORE LEAVE! I'M GOING TO SHORE LEAVE! NA NA NA NA!

        "OUR APOLOGIES: Due to the graphic nature and seriously 'EFFED up Plum, the following Three AM thought has been cut to prevent anyone from being offended. Plum is to be punished for this attempted violation of Three AM Thoughts 'Censued acts and Graphic descriptions of sex and violence' clause in her contract. She has been wicked, and she must pay in the penalty. And here at Spike's Guilty pleasures, we have but one penalty. James Marsters is instructed to tie her down on a bed...and spank her. He must spank her well, and after he has spanked her, he may deal with her as he likes. And then he must spank me. Yes, he will give us all a good spanking! And after the spanking...the oral sex."

Top Seventeen Reasons it Sucks to Live in Sunnydale.

       1.  A death in the family is no longer an acceptable excuse for being absent from school, since, chances are, they'll be running around and trying to eat you by next week anyway.

       2.  Instead of snow days, you have 'Rain of Toads' days.

       3.  Just for once, you'd like to have normal problems, like a zit before your big date.  Instead, you have to worry about your zit turning evil and eating your date.

       4. It's a commonplace practice for Sunnydale Dads to put their daughter's dates through rigorous screening procedures.  Namely, chanting and the sacrificing of small, furry animals.

       5.  In other towns, a Starbucks on every corner.  In Sunnydale, there's churchs with drive-through blessing windows on every corner.

       6.  You beg your parents to transfer you to any inner city school, since it's safer.

       7.  The latest fashion?  Garlic earrings.

       8.  You think the Exorcist is based on you.

       9. The oribtuary page in the town newspaper reminds you of your school yearbook.

       10.  It's almost tax season, and you find yourself wondering if you can count the demon that lives in your closet as a dependent or not since you constantly catch him draining your wife's life-force.

       11.  You think your school dance is tame if only one person spontonously combusts.

       12.  You watch The Omen because you think it's the feel-good movie of the year.

       13. Your friend gets pregnant on Monday.  By Thursday, she's the happy mother of two bouncing, baby Gestilate Demons.

       14.  Friday the Thirteenth is considered a religious holiday.

       15.  In biology, you have the choice of learning about creationism, Darwinism...or the newest course, demonism.

       16.  When filling out your college applications, you accidently list 'exorcisms' as an extracurricular activity.

       All the football players in my school dressed up like cheerleaders for Halloween...and I was jealous of their legs.  That just seems so wrong.

       Help!  Help!  Elizabeth Dole is trying to steal my soul!

       <Sighs> One of these day...James Marsters will discover that I'm the only one for him.  Or he's never getting out of my basement.

       I'm going to find the guy who writes high school history books and marry him.  Just so I can bribe him to put my name in it.  "You know...I was the deciding factor in WWII..."  "You weren't even alive then!"  "YES I WAS!" <Holds up book> "SEE! It says here that the teletubbies and I took out Hitler with a cyanide laced marshmallow!"

       Redplum!  Redplum!!!!

       Jeez...bite one person, and they freak out!  How was I supposed to know he was a hemophiliac?!

       So?  I frequently have homicidal urges and the voices coax me to strip and run around town naked, screaming, "Betchiebooya!"  Is that so wrong?

       Sometimes, I wonder what the worst thing that could happen to me would be.  I guess it would have to be that one day, I'll meet James Marsters, we'll fall madly in love, get married, have twenty kids, stay together for a long time...and then one day, find out he ran away with an eighty-year-old David Boreneaz.  Then again, they'd make such a cute couple.

       Don't you hate it when you buy twenty gallons of gasoline, only to find out that you're out of matches, so you go out again, to get some, but there's a huge line at the store, and by the time you get them and get back home, you don't feel like burning down your neighbors house anymore?  Yeah.  Me too.

       If I'm ever out in the woods and lost, I know how to survive.  First...I'll start a forest fire, and wait for Smokey to come save me.  Good idea, huh?

       One day, me and my friend Danni were having a fight.  We were arguing back and forth about who's turn it was to do our chemistry homework.  We kept on fighting till we finally decided to do it together.  I didn't say this was a fun story.

       Do you ever have the urge to sneak up behind the mailman, and brutally beat him to death with a baseball bat, then send his remains to the president by UPS?  No?  Neither do I...cause that would be crazy...hahahaha...

       I always wondered why people rever crosses.  If Jesus died in a Chevy, would we all wear the Chevy emblem around our necks?  I hope not.  It's all big and tacky.

       You know that story about the princess who kissed a toad and he turned into a prince?  It's bogus.  She was really licking him, and only THOUGHT he turned into a prince.  Man, that must have been an awkard morning-after.

       Hey...Clare...lalalalalala....TEEEEDDDDDAAAA!!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

       Someone once asked me what was the scariest thing in the world.  My dad...in public.

       One day, I'm going to take over the world.  I'm gonna train little monkeys to fight, and send them to foreign countries, where they'd all be like, "Awwww...look at the cute little monkey with a little gun...it's soooo cute!!!"  BLAM!  BLAM!  "Oh my God!  The cute monkey killed Johnson!!!!  But it's sooo cute with his little gun...I can't kill him..."  It's a fool-proof plan...cause, come on!  Who wants to kill a cute little monkey with a gun?

       Why doesn't Dilbert have a mouth?  How does he eat and talk?

       PMS, Female code letters for Permissible Man-Slaughter

       Why the hell do people wanna clone other people?  Don't we have enough assholes in the world without making more?!

       Why does Donald duck wear a towel when he gets out of the shower when he doesn't wear pants to begin with?

       Plum Pet Peeve: Okay...does anyone elses' mom do this?!  "Clean your room!"  "Yes, mom..." "Don't say yes, mom, to me, young lady!"  Then what the bloody hell am I supposed to say?!  Tell her to screw off?!

       Just for fun, get in a chatroom with all your friends, and role play BtVS, using only South Park quotes.  Believe me, the results are...interesting.  How interesting?  Imagine Tara saying, "I can't wait to take leave so I can get me some fucking pootang!"  I'm still scarred for life.

       Okay...whoever the hell decided to call Physics a science is a freakin' crackhead!  It's 'effin math!  Just with gravity!

       Interesting Fact:  A whorehouse used to be called nunnerys way back when.  So, techinically, when Shakespeare says, "Get thee to a nunnery!"  It means send her to the whorehouse.   Wow...what a fun guy.

       Llamas is a fun word to say...but you know what's a funner to say?  LLAMAS IN PAJAMAS!  HAHAHAHA!  Damn, I crack myself up.

       My science teacher once did a dance called the Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy dance.  I think it's time for drug-screening in my school.  I'm seriously not kidding about this.

       Drugs can be dangerous. Sure, a little weed is fun at first, but four hundred bowls  later, you're out in the middle of Kansas in a cornfield, impregnanted by aliens using Elvis' sperm, wearing a shirt that says 'Save a tree, eat a beaver,' and convinced that you're the love child of Rob Lowe and Ming-Ling the panda...that's a sure sign you have a problem.

       I think it's time to thin down the population.  My proposal to fix this problem?  Give me a rifle, and then release the Republicans into the wild!  Come on...like we'd miss them.  (Rush Limbaugh says:  Please do not be offended by this Fema-Nazi...OMG!  SHE JUST SHOT ME IN THE ASS!)  Hehe...Kinda hard to miss, Rush...

       Howard Stern looks like Cher after one too many visits to the plastic surgeon.

       I am utterly convinced that the Cadbury Bunny is the offspring of the Easter Bunny and the Trix Rabbit.

       Do you ever look at the warning labels on stuff? My lawnmower came with a sticker, showing a man sticking his head beneath moving blades, with a big red line through it.  I couldn't figure out why they had it there.  Except that maybe some dumbass stuck his head beneath a running lawnmower for some f-ed up reason, and then sued.  Common sense...some are born with it, the ones who aren't have lawyers.

       Because of BtVS, I am now frightened of any guy in a Santa suit.  My apologies go out to the Salvation Army for that little...uh...incident...

       Christianity started out as a cult too.  So lighten up, peoples!

       If one more freakin' guy calls me Boo Boo Kitty Fuck...it's goin' to get ugly.

       They say that TV has desentised people.  I don't think so.  I watch TV and still feel sorry for all those bodies buried in my basement.

       Cows are trying to take over the world.  Seriously, they are.  Those shifty-eyed little bastards.

       Ever hear the phrase 'One hand washes the other'?  I don't know why, but the phrase always confuses me...cause...like...DUH!  It's hard to only wash with one hand.  Kinda like one-hand clapping.

       NO, KITTY!  THAT'S MUH POT PIE!

       I propose we start a new space program dedicated to sending Bush to the sun.  Finally!  Something I'll approve of spending my tax dollars on.  Hehe.

       Colonel Sanders...lovable Kentuckian?  Or depraved chicken murderer!?

       You ever see a movie that is just soooo bad, that your ears start to bleed?  Thank you, Planet of the Apes, A.I. and Jurassic Park III!

       Secret between us:  The Plum has worst taste in men then anyone on the planet.  Trust me on this.  Nice boys usually turn out to be not so nice later.

       If all else fails, blame Bush.

       Fun thing to do at the next Republican Convention:  Knock out George Bush Sr. and steal the marionette strings from him and make George Bush Jr. do a little bump and grind with Colin Powell.  Guarenteed to bring the country together in laughter...or just abject terror and confusion.

       Fun thing to do if you ever make it on Leno:  They always make the questions before hand, and formulate the answers before the show is taped.  Just for fun, change your answers, or start asking Leno hard-hitting questions about government and the economy.  Keep on doing this till you  make him cry faster then Barbara Walters interviewing Monica Lewinsky.

       You can do this to Letterman too, but only if he stops staring at your boobs long enough to pay attention to what the hell you're saying.

FUN THINGS TO DO AT A BUFFY CONVENTION

       Take a ballon and rub it on David Borneaz's head, then stick it to a wall, screaming, "HA HAHAHA!  I MADE STATIC ELECTRICITY!  I AM A GOD!"  Be prepared to run like hell.  Those security guys are tubby, but fast.

       Try to goad James Marsters and David Borneaz into a fight, simply to prove, once and for all, who's the better vampire.

       Follow Joss Whedon with a notepad and pen, then laugh hysterically at ANYTHING he says, and jot something down on the notepad, while muttering beneath your breath, "Genius!  Absolutly genius! Too bad I have to kill you."

       Follow Alyson Hannigan around with a flute, yelling loudly, "GUESS WHAT I DID AT BAND CAMP!?"

       Jump Michelle Tractenberg, screaming, "I'll get you, Penny, and your little dog too!"  (This only works if have a claw for a hand, and know who Inspector Gadget is.)

       Dress up like a doctor and go to the Buffy cast, telling them all to drop their pants and cough.  The girls included.

       Run around with a tazor, trying to zap James Marsters while yelling, "IT'S HOSTILE 17!!!! GET HIM!"

       Jump on stage while the cast is fielding questions, and start singing "I'm a Sweet Transvestite."  Works best if you're wearing the full Frank-N-Furter outfit, bustier included.  Ask Anthony Stewart Head if you can borrow his before hand.

       Dress up like Dr. Evil and chase after Seth Green, saying, "Don't you love Daddy?!"

       Dress up like the Buffy-Bot and follow James Marsters around the place, asking him if he wants to ravage you now.  This works best if you're obviously a guy.

Fun thing to do AFTER the Buffy Convention

       Frame all your brand new restraining orders.

       I am currenly having an affair with Saddam Hussein, while carrying on a secret liason with Australian actor Hugh "Wolverine" Jackman.  

       Dilbert is GOD!  

       Spike lives underneath my bed and makes weird hissing noises at night.  

       Buffy's character is really based on me.  

       I OWN Spike's jacket.  

       Colored chalk is manufactured by the Devil...he goes by the name Crayola.

       Why don't they make tuna-safe dolphin?  

       Do sheep shrink in the rain?  

       Statistically speaking, shouldn't James Bond at least have genital warts by now?  Or something else pretty nasty?  

       According to COSMO, eight out of ten men come early.  Then how come all my boyfriends are always late for our dates?

       Six words that you never want to hear.  "I puked.  You're standing in it."

       Wet paint signs are redundant if you paint them.

       Does James Marsters shave his chest for BTVS?

       Five words you never want to hear.  Luke, I am your father.

       I can make happy faces...with hair!   =:-)

       Three words you never want to hear.  Ace Ventura Sequel.

       Why is Llama spelled with two 'L's?  That's so llame.

       Videl Sassoon...innocent hair products or something else entirely?  Rearrange the letters in the first name.  Hmmm...could it be SATAN???!!!

       Same goes for Santa.

       What if the Bible was supposed to be a novel?  With a sequel?  "OOPS!  Bob!  We accidently created a religion!  What do we do?"  "Just go with it!  Maybe we'll sell some copies!"

       If God is infallible, how can men go to hell since he created them?

       Um...did anyone tell the Scientologists that their religion was created by the same science fiction writer that created 'Battlefield Earth?'

       I hate people who have intolerance!

       Who the hell came up with the Easter Bunny?  Where did you get rabbits from the rebirth of Christ?

       Celeberties are fragile...that's why Charles Heston carries a shot gun.

       Alfred E. Neuman is my secret lover.

       How come I'm a geek magnet, and the only cute guys who ask me out are the ones I hate?

       I'm really married to James Marsters.  He just doesn't know it yet.

       Teen Magazine is evil.  They said that Spike was played by James Marsden! Hello!  Could we get people who know what the bloody cute-as-hell guy's name is?

       The only 'real' English guy on Buffy is Anthony Stewart Head.  And in real life, he sounds like Spike.  (North London as opposed to Giles' cultured South.)

       Manchester United is KING

       I'm not English.  But I have a Canadian accent.  Close enough to fool the real English though.  (And for the love of God people, stop asking me the exchange rate for pounds!)

       I frequently douse myself in holy water and go outside at noon and scream, "AAHH! I'M MELTING! I'M A VAMPIRE!  SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

       My parents are considering therapy.

       I scare my Catholic friends.

       I considered becoming a nun, but I'm neither Catholic...and they don't let you put pin-ups of James Marsters in your chambers.  Especially with his shirt off.  Picky.

       I have no idea why I am making this.

       My yearbook is filled with people's signatures that say "have a great summer."  Thanks a lot.  Now I'm invisible and the CIA is trying to recruit me.

       Don't call information and ask for the number to the Magic Shoppe, Spike's Love Crypt, The Alibi Room, The Intiative...or basically any number in Sunnydale.  They get testy when they realize the town doesn't even exist!

       Penguins piss me off

       Olaf the Troll borrowed my sweater and now it's all stretched out.  They're so inconsiderate.

       I wear crosses...just in case.

       I have a life-size cardboard cut-out of Angel staring at me right now.  He's starting to freak me out.

       I plan on buying a Spike and Buffy one too and make Angel and Spike fight over her

       Nicotine is my friend

       My gay friend and I frequently argue loudly over who's cuter.  Spike or Angel.  People look at us funny.

       Dogs are the tools of Satan.  Seriously...did you ever see 'The Omen?'

       I have actually debated over whether or not I'd rather be a vampire or a werewolf.  Vampire, of course...then again, most people are least likely to have silver bullets on hand.  Everyone has wood somewhere.  (That wasn't supposed to be as dirty as it sounded.)

       Bram Stoker was a nutball.

       I saw Hannibal today with my dad.  I'm hungry now.

       I want a poodle named Spike and a rotweiler named Buffy.  The poodle's going to try and rip people's arms off.

       I created a religion.  Noelism.  I'm the only member.  And the turn out at my church sucks.  I always skip it.

       I made an e-group too.  I'm the only member in that too.  I send stories to myself.

       I have ten email accounts.  I only use one.

       I don't know when or how this list became about me.

       I had a parrot once.  He only said one word...die, die die...he's dead now.  The power of suggestion is highly underrated.

       I used to own goats.  For some reason, that isn't something that you want to advertise in public.  People look at you funny.

       Some girl told me wearing leather was wrong.  She started crying when I said the cows didn't need it anymore.  CAUSE I ATE HIM! BAWHAHAHAHA!

       I got in an argument with a stapler once.  I lost.  Smart ass.

       Cutting the heads off of chickens is only wrong when you start making their bodies dance.

       Hamsterdance.com frightens and confuses me.

       Important:  CATS CAN'T FLY!  But they make great corndogs.

       My cat won't come near me anymore because of that last statement.

       I was abducted by aliens.  They threw me back because I didn't drool and vote for Bush.

       My brother's girlfriend read this list.  She won't look me in the eye anymore.

       I have candlewax in my keyboard.

       Today, I argued that the Japense liked Communism in the middle of social studies.  No one told me it was the Chinese who are communist till the end of class.  I hate my school mates.

       I'm the only one in my psych group that knows who Golda Meir is.  

       I don't know why I know who Golda Meir is.

       I talk to myself quite frequently.  It's only bad when I start yelling at myself in public.

       I called my friend 'Deadboy' today.  He's confused.

       Never, ever, ever!  Call your librarian G-Man.  They don't think it's funny.  

       My mom has no sense of humour.  Seriously, I thought shaving my lil brother's head would be funny.

       I don't have a little brother.  I'm sorry.  I'm a sad and pathetic liar.

       I don't know why, but I love the line, 'Hello!  Lesbian now!'

       My friend suggested I write a Easter themed fanfiction where the Easter Bunny attacks Spike and Buffy, and somehow, one of them ends up covered in caramel that has to be licked up.  That's not even the scary part.  I'll be finished by Easter.

       I actually wrote a fanfiction with me in it.  You will never see it.

       My mom took away my tarot cards when she caught me trying to summon the first Slayer.  I attend church on a regular basis now and she hid all my occult books.

       For Chelle:  Who the hell is Spence?

       I spent two hours trying to manipulate a per. f Buffy.  During a lightening storm.  One guess to what happened and why I'm trying to stake myself.

       I had a pet stake once, but my mom took it away when I tried to shish-kabob her stupid bird.

       Priests think you're weird if you run in the church and scream, "Holy water and crosses now!  The Master's acoming!"

       If you patrol a graveyard with an ax, you get picked up by the police and they make you take a breathlazer and drug test.

       If Spike didn't use railroad spikes, and instead used chopsticks, what would his nickname be?

       How come all the Irish people on BTVS or ATS are either drunks (ANGEL when alive,) or horny comic relief? (DOYLE)

       How come no one asks my opinion unless it's something completely unrelated with reality?

       I want to dye my hair green and scream, "Cha-cha-cha Chia!!"

       Apparently, Russian people don't like if you scream in their vicinity, "OH MY GAWD!  THE REDS ARE INVADING!" (Sorry to any Russian or communists that may have offended.)

       How come my brother can shoot a Snapple bottle out of my hand from a hundred feet, yet he can't hit the goddamn toilet that's three inches from him!?  Come on, ladies...you know what I'm talking about!

       Scary thought:  If they had Prozac back in the Eighteen hundreds, would Poe's poem 'The Raven' be called, 'The Bluebird of Happy-Happy Land?' instead?

       Buffy's a necrophiliac!

       My spellcheck doesn't accept the word necrophiliac.  Go figure.

       The guy playing the teenaged Darth Vader in the next Star Wars movie actually lived in the town near mine in Canada!  Let's just say, when he was picked, he was butt ugly...but I saw a pic of him recently...and oh boy...is he a hottie now!

       I can't believe I said 'Oh My Gawd' before.

       My Angel cut out mentioned above is secretly in love with my desk lamp.  But they can't resolve their inanimate objects differences...he's two-dimensional...my lamp's a piece of office equipment who really likes my stapler.

       Yes, the same stapler who once won an argument against me.

       I work in a kennel...and I HATE dogs!

       I swerve to avoid hitting squirrels...and I swerve towards the Avon lady.

       Jehovah's Witnesses don't believe in Hell...so what's the incentive for going to church and going door to door?  (Nothing like a little fire and brimstone to get you off the couch.)

       Bad move:  Apparently, not all guys think 'third base' when you beat them up.  My crush won't talk to me anymore.

       Things to never say to your mother:  "No."  "You're wrong."  "I'm right."  

       Things to never say to your father: "Dad, back me up with mom."

       Things you never want to hear from either:  "You know that allowence you used to have?"  "Something smells weird in the basement...are you busy?"  "Septic tanks are your friends."  "Want to talk about it?"  or worse:  "I hope you don't have plans this summer...we're building another pond for some more stupid, goddamn Koi!"

       How come my brother continually thinks the purple and pink Shick razor is his? (Thanks for the sliced artery, bro.)

       I believe in ghosts, vampires, demons, and aliens...but I don't believe in God, Satan, and the Bush legislation.

       The time is ripe for letting Charlton Heston loose on Washington.  (Senator Kennedy is coming right for us!!! Blam!)

       I am Wicked Plum!  You will respect my authoritaaay!

       I wrote my first naughty fic when I was seventeen.  I wasn't allowed to read it till I was eighteen.  (Damn censorship!)

       My friend was caught reading one of my fics.  I'm not allowed to sleep at her house anymore and her mom flicks me the evil eye whenever I see her.

       I confuse and frighten my friends.  I love my life.

       Sex is only bad if your partner is ugly.

       I'm sorry for all the ugly people I offended.  

       Hey, I'm ugly...but my big boobs make up for it...

       I'm sorry, I lied again...I'm not ugly.

       I don't have big boobs...yet!!!  Yay silicone!

       I made my lil sister cry when I told her the venison she was eating was really Rudolph.

       I'm a cruel, depraved sibling, aren't I?