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I forgot my birthday since I was travelling and making money.

I have thus decided to decree this week my birthday week, due to compounding interest. I mean, really, it should be my birthday for the whole month, but I'm being humble.

Let the birthday greetings begin!

I feel like spending an obscene amount on a completely wasteful idea.

Any suggestions?

Right. So.

I have no idea who fixed my phone/computer/whatever to call me a 'pinprick buttfucker' but I have a few choice things to say.

1) haha

2) grow up

3) A human being couldn't have an anus the size of a pinprick. They'd explode.

4) Obligatory 'my penis is enormous' comment. I'm too stressed to put any effort into this comeback, my assistant is off on vacation and Bobbi refuses to be witty on my behalf.

my google search history tonight:

best chocolate cake recipes
how to explain sex to a 15 year old
narnia
jungle book showtimes

I wonder if I'm on a watchlist now

This world, my friends, is a cruel place. It is not the jive, free love, environment we all expected to grow into.

It is a place where one's selfish assistant decides to throw their engagement party during the most important global conference of the year.

I ask you -- how am I expected to be my debonair self if I'm responsible for the day to day tedium of taking care of myself?

The horror.

A friendly reminder that today, the greatest of days, my mother gave birth to a literal angel.

In honour of my day, I demand the glory that I deserve.

A few suggestions, if you're struggling to think of a birthday gift:

- A golden idol of myself
- Chocolate eclaires
- Grapes. Pre-peeled, of course
- Chocolates
- A life-size model of Pamela Anderson, circa 1990
- Chocolate covered strawberries

Remember: today doesn't end until 11:59 p.m.

Plenty of time.

I'm thinking of going as myself to the Hallowe'en party. I think I meet all the requirements -- horrible? Absolutely. Historical? Better believe it. Amazing? That goes without saying.

A philosophical thought for the day: If Warren does something, and no one is appalled, did he do anything at all?

A poem in honour of last night:

Barton is boring.
Rum, and strip monopoly?
Slightly less boring

As usual, I feel that I played a fair game and dominated. I still think there should be a hostile takeover option.

Also, I can't find my socks.

My colleagues. Friends. Acquaintances.

I feel bereft. It has been too long since I mingled amongst you.

I don't know who is dating who. I don't know if I actually care, mind you, but it's nice to know.

Tell me what you've all been up to lately. Five letters or less.

I'll start:

I fell madly in love.

If you're wondering why it suddenly smells so much better here, it's because I'm back, as rich as ever.

I know you were all worried about that.

I will now be relaxing in the nude somewhere in the mansion. You've all been warned.

Underwear vs swimwear.

Strange concept. Both look the same, and yet only one is socially acceptable in public.

Ladies -- and men (I'm a feminist. Equality for all.)

Let's change this.

#releasethethong

I've got mine on.

Cross-posted from Twitter

For those of you wondering -- yes, that is a croquembouche in the kitchen.

Help yourself.

You're welcome.

I've been told to introduce myself; however I feel I have met quite a few of you already.

I'm Warren Worthington the Third.

The tabloid stories are all true.

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Warren Worthington III

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October 2024

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