What's with death? Sure, for some, it's a reason to live. Dying is a big cause of death to others, or even a pretty girl to some. But come on! You could be dead at any moment! Really. One minute, you're giving head to some guy with twenty bucks in his hand, and the next minute, he splooges in your mouth and the minute after that, you pull a Lorena Bobbit with your teeth because of reflexes caused by the piano falling onto the car you two were in. Now you're dead and what's more is you've got jiz and a penis in your throat. But HE survives and he's living with the pain of getting his wee wee bit off by some whore off the street who's probably got herpes and all kinds of other diseases. And he's sitting there, stuck in the car with no help and no goats because this all happened at night in the middle of nowhere. The piano was hanging from a rope off the edge of an abandoned building. So he's sitting there with a dead hooker in his lap, bleeding profusely and thinking of all this. The pain is so great, he can't even feel it anymore. So he's thinking. He says "Huh, death's a funny thing. One minute you're about to nail a hooker, the next she bites your dick off and dies on you." You just know that if this guy still had a dick, he'd drag you from underneath the twisted metal and have his way with you because he likes it when they lie still and even if he didn't you're still an easy lay. Then, as he's thinking all this, severely hemoraging, he dies because the car finally blows up. Then the police come by to see the source of all teh noise.

What I'm trying to say is that we should live life to it's fullest. Don't eat those cheat, make-it-yourself, pizza thingies you find in the frozen food section that come as a pack of 500. They're about the thickness of a CD (and just as expensive) with a drop of tomato sauce on them and a film of what could be concidered cheese on top. I say go out and get a pizza the size of a satelite dish and invite all your friends to eat it so you can see what you're missing.