Inside a giant duvet with a box of body toning galaxy chocolate, a mug of coffee, some humans and a stack of DVDs

I worship a pantheistic selection of Gods, ranging from lasagne, meat lasagne, Peter Steele and shiny metal things.

Sometimes, but then my thoughts start screaming at me and my id starts sucking off my superego which makes me start fancying the furniture and then my eyes begin to vibrate and I cry blood. So I tend to stick to ignoring myself.