Like everybody else, I'm unique. One of my goals this year is to have aspirations. I listen to a lot of bands that you've never heard of.

I'm interesting in meeting women who are not lame.

Not far from where I live there's a place called Druid Hill. There's a circle of stones that nobody knows quite who, when, or why it was built. Some say it is an ancient calender. Others believe animal sacrifices were held there by some long forgotten cult. There's even one report of a man turning invisible after sitting on one of the stones and meditating. What eldritch force lurks there perhaps no man knows. I like going there at night and looking at the clear sky. When the stars are right I'm like a man possessed. A voices wells up from inside me, "Ia Ia Shub-Niggurath. The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!" My body is no longer my own. I cry out in a language no sane man could know, "Ph-nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ygnaiih...ygnaiih...
thflthkh'ngha...
Yog-Sothoth...Y'bthnk...
h'ehye--n'grkdl'lh...
Eh-ya-ya-ya-yahaah--e'yayayayaaaa...ngh'aaaaa...
nhg'aaa...h'yuh...h'yuh..."

In mad desperation I scour the stones for the Voorish sign. "Iä...ngai... ygg..." My blood curdles as the unspeakable ululations spew forth from my mouth. I must search for the Dho-Nha to release me from this terror. "N'gai, n'gha'ghaa bugg-shoggog, y'hah; Yog-Sothoth, Yog-Sothoth..." There, underneath the central stone. A portal, to where I know not. Perhaps to N'Kai, or the Plateau of Leng beyond Kadath in the Cold Waste. I turn to you with a feral grin, "Ladies first."