Being a Curious Inspection of Random but Interesting Points along My Own Personal Temperature Scale

At 0 degrees Brendon, I exist.

At 43 degrees Brendon, I can melt cheese in my hair.

At 17 degrees Brendon, purple looks good on me.

At 151 degrees Brendon, regret becomes desire.

At -19 degrees Brendon, I obsess about cans of all types.

At 2 degrees Brendon, I become completely Brendon - otherwise referred to as "Absolute Brendon."

At 303 degrees Brendon, I will tell only lies.

At 96 degrees Brendon, hamburger is suddenly much less of a helper.

At 72 degrees Brendon, the room will rotate approximately 72 degrees.

At 999 degrees Brendon, I look good on purple.

At 102.9 degrees Brendon, I will bring you more rock and more talk.

At -62 degrees Brendon, I mow the lawn without leaving a number where I can be reached.

At 8 degrees Brendon, lists make themselves up unbidden.

At 00 degrees Brendon, I cancel myself out - "double-aught Brendon" syndrome.

At 27 degrees Brendon, a skeleton crosses the stage, and now the danger starts.

At 5 degrees Brendon, blood will cover the streets, children will lie down with dirty plants, the end of times is nigh!

At 13 degrees Brendon, I can melt ice simply by removing it from the freezer and staring at it.

At 44 degrees Brendon, I finally get a chance to prove what a plucky second-stringer can do out there, coach!

At 255 degrees Brendon, I will sneak my finger into your nose.

At -X degrees Brendon, I might feel a little negative and ex-y.

At 1007 degrees Brendon, I dine on stars.

At 50 degrees Brendon, puppets lose their voting rights.