infra

[Insert scream of unimaginable horror and desperation here.]

More proof that the universe has a dark and twisted sense of humor:

I've had a song going through my head ever since I got up this morning. On a loop. Continual. Persistent. Eternal.

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt,
His name is my name too.

Whenever we go out,
The people always shout,
There goes John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.

Dah dah dah dah, dah dah dah

...

I used to think that Hell would be an infinite threesome with Rosie O'Donnell and Janet Reno, with running commentary from a jerking Louie Anderson in the corner chair.

This, however, is an entirely new level.

Please.

Make it stop.