I have no earliest human memory. I’m not human. I’M AN ALIEN, BEE-YOTCH. IM IN UR GOVERNMENT, TAKIN OVER UR PLANET.
However, the earliest memory my human host (who still think I’m just a pseudonym of his) has is being in a stroller at Disneyland, rolling up to the Mickey Mouse hats and having his parents buy him one.
Okay, tumblr, this is me trying you out. You’re kind of like that hooker that everybody in town has tried except for me, because I’m not into hookers. Everything a hooker can do for me, I can get from my girlfriend or my hand. It’s cheaper that way, and a lot more sexy. I mean, let’s face it, my girlfriend is hot and you are way fuglier than my hand.
Now that I’ve killed the metaphor (and if the hooker is the metaphor, then yes: I did, in fact, just kill a hooker), I shall attempt to figure out what the big deal about tumblr is, and whether or not I really want one.