While scrolling through facebook, I noticed a few posts about some generator that, with the click of a button, creates a status update that is something you would say based on words it pulls from your previous statuses. The posts are then signed by your "robotic self." Out of curiosity, I clicked on this to see what statuses this "Natashabot" came up with. This is what I discovered:
Natashabot likes romance.
I've added Pez dispensers to have a romantic night, baby.
A cold shower includes deepened breathing, blood circulation, and you.
I sucked Ronald McDonald's McDick.
Natashabot is a terrorist.
I have a Gun!
A bomb threat makes me feel better.
I need to enslave about it.
Natashabot is already naked.
I'm already naked, but then I spelled Cher's name correctly.
I'm already naked, but then I got an autographed pair.
I'm already naked, but not when jizzing occurs strictly in pajama pants, and pajama pants.
I'm already naked, but believe me, miss, are you?
I'm already naked, but believe me, beer and ramen noodles. That's right, bitches. WE DID.
Natashabot gives advice.
Never look at Waffle House. Share the Vagina Snatchers.
Let 'em be tossed. LEGALIZE DWARF-TOSSING.
What's with my job applications? Under Physical Requirements, I request a demon-possessed plastic baby.
I could make a choice between two women in Chicago.
So far I've got an experiment. The more people fucking and running if your signature is legible?
May I request a choice of a Nicolas Cage thong or you?
I've been trying to make a choice between a den and FUCK and twenty-three cents.
Natashabot proves you can read.
You read. We're two bouncers.
You read. We're meant to be playing bumper carts.
You read. We're in the bachelor life!
You read. My vagina.
Natashabot is pro-urine.
Your ideal candidate for my pee rights.
You make me in the bathroom.
So far I've peed in Heaven.
Maybe next time I'll wet freshman.
Beware of PANTS.
Natashabot asks questions.
What's a light and happy chinaman?
Natashabot is fond of children.
Ooh I shouldn't think young girls could be good.
Give it one week of virgins.
Little girls um hewwo we are Anonymous Alcoholics.
I already had 90-year-olds, but then I decided to be saved.
Natashabot likes math.
There are 13 flavors of honeysuckles.
You are 13 flavors of judgment.
Natasha + wet hair = a part of hell.
Profanity > time to the beard.
Natashabot predicts the future.
The fanny pack at next year's Thanksgiving.
Screw frats is next year's resolution.
Googly-eyed vagina is next year's Halloween.
Hanging out with my Chlamydia will bring us both to the Belcourt Theater.
Natashabot gets sad sometimes.
I've been deemed the Garbage Dump.
I'll have no blood. I'd just love to be taller than you.
All life is an experiment. More bird shit on this.
Natashabot runs a brothel.
Especially with the women to buy you.
I request a unique installment of people fucking Nestle products.
I had a Miss Piggy. But lung cancer.
Three giant parking cones in my sister.
Natashabot already has.
I already had a dream I was impersonating a banana.
I already went strolling with his chicken.
I already saw a goat in a wheelchair wheeling over to graduate from college.
Natashabot loses her mind.
A terrible, horrible, no I anticipated some pasta, Whitey. Hi ho hi ho or hello is fuzzy! No one tell me.
...thanks a lot, Natashabot. It's so comforting to know this is what I sound like.