Dude, Where's My Room?

Now Playing : "Tritsch-Tratsch Polka" - Johann Strauss Jr.

"Where are me knickers?!?"

Give me a muppet to choke. Or better yet, someone build me a large red and yellow billboard which screams...

Do. Not. Pollute. My. Room. With. Your. Shtuff.

Or maybe something like this...

My room is totally and utterly polluted by other people's shtuff. Just wait until you see a picture of it--you'd be flipping through Yellow Pages for the environment police. I just spent an era trying to find my clothes under the massive piles of junk which seems to be screaming back at me;

"Go away, we're going to breed and build settlements and grow roots!!"

>_<"""""

Sooner or later, I'll be able to do splits because of all the limb stretching I have to do to just walk around in my room! Pity my toes lah people, with all the tip-toeing around the junk colonies that I have to do.

Pendatang Dari Bilik Sebelah, go back!!

Anyone ever watched that late night TV show that had two British ladies invading people's dirty homes to inspect the contamination and then clean it up for them? What is it called again? I bet if they took one glance at my room, terus faint lah.

I like my shtuff in an order and color-coded. You like yours sprawled everywhere, interestingly morbid like bodies littered around in Saw II. I'll even sponsor the industrial strength heavy machinery tractor thing. Just pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease for the love of God...

Get

Your

Shtuff

***OUT***

Of

My

Room!