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Welcome to the noodle farm.

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Lately it has come to my attention that my journal blows.

A lot.

Every day other members with their fancy journals drive past me and throw rolled up wads of shame at me, laughing with their groups of hot women giving me the finger to make me feel like crap. And all I can do is giggle like a school girl and make origami. Damn cool origami though, like the time I made a Sherman tank. With spawn points. That rocked.

So to combat this I figured my life needs a new direction. I spent weeks deciding what it was I wanted to do, like maybe being Satan, or even a character from a Super Nintendo game like James Bond Jr or Terminator 2, until I saw an ad in a newspaper. A position for the Shady Acres Noodle Farm! They said that their previous worker quit the night before, and as such they needed a new employee, although the specifics of the job were quite vague. This was it. This was my purpose in life. I knew I had been put on this earth to become a noodle farmer. What higher attainment in life was there than this? This was the profession porn stars dreamed of! Why would you want to be having secks each night when you could be watching over your white thin babies that are the ultimate in stringy nutritional goodness, watching your loving strands of love grow up to fill some random person stomach in the most satisfying way...of love. I rung them up the next day, trying to sound smart by spouting off random facts of intellect such as 'Aliens are so just a cognition of progenitive thought of probative assembly. I mean, please!'. Luckily my keen intellect confused the poor lady on the other end of the phone so much that not only did her head implode in a wonderfully acoustic fashion, but it also provided a chance for me to hear the sound two zombies might make as they make sweet sweet bodily love as the lady tried to decipher the gigantic payload of intellect I had just delivered to the mail box in her brain. Obviously it landed me the job, and as of now I am due to meet my new employees tomorrow.

They said they have an old computer there that is connected to the internet every now and then, so I will update this journal when I get a chance (which should be each Tuesday night, Australia time). I'm going to be the best damn noodle farmer ever! When you eat noodles, you WILL think of me. Got that?

Since I start tomorrow, should I:

1) Go out drinking tonight, threatening to fight anyone who does not respect the awesome nature of my new job
2) Start work on a noodle costume to wear on my first day, to show them how keen I am
3) Stay up all night studying noodles, hopped up on a fresh packet of no-doze.
4) Ring the Shady Acres Noodle Farm back right now and demand a pay rise for all the hard work I have put into the place.
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I say that you take some time and invest in the noodle of the month club, so that each month a new and exotic noodle comes to your home. Although, you may want to check into that farm some more. I had a similair experience with promises of noodle farming, and it turned out to be an assylum of some sort for mental patients. They were harvesting their noodles for experiments or something boring like that. I lost interest and went and got a job at an Italian restaurant instead.

If you do decide to make the noodle suit, be careful. If it is an assylum, they may try to harvest your brain.

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