Friday, October 29, 2010

Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

Rape is defined as destroying or stripping something of its possession, and that is exactly what you are doing to my conversation when you scream in your own conversation. You are taking your words and destroying my feeble thought process and you have no idea because you are so absorbed in your own screaming world. In this world everyone around you is hard of hearing and you have to raise your voice to an eardrum shattering decibel because the people you are talking to and EVERYONE around you needs to hear what you are saying. It is THAT important. I like to call this process Conversation Rape.
For example, you're at dinner and you're having a nice conversation about kittens and/or butterflies, and the people behind you feel the need to scream at each other about sea otters and their drug paraphernalia lying around their apartment. "So yeah I really like the way butterflies are nice, quiet, and peace--" "I LEFT MY HEROIN NEEDLE ON MY FLOOR LOLROFLLMAOLMBOHAHAH." This kind of behavior is not okay. We (the people around you) do not enjoy hearing about your illegal activities, and we would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself before we band together and kill you with an axe.

This molestation of my conversation happened tonight while leaving the theatre after watching Paranormal Activity 2. I was telling my friends how I saw many resemblances to Cloverfield and The Blair Witch Project and mid-sentence conversation rapist yelled across the theater "THAT WAS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED IN THE FIRST MOVIE ZOMGNOWAIZHA?" and my initial reaction was "What.." So to everyone who feels the need to rape my conversations, do not. I will axe murder you. That is a threat, not a promise.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Internal Parasites are Scary...

So in respect to Halloween, I am going to write a post about the thing that terrifies me the most. Internal parasites are obviously parasites that exist within something. My particular fear is of them residing inside of me. Talk about intrusive. Let's talk about my friend, the tapeworm! The tapeworm is one of the oldest parasites and is actually really freaking scary. I was reading information about them and eating fries at the same time, which is a bad idea by the way. My fries started to wriggle and become segmented and I got a little freaked out and decided to watch baby kitten videos on youtube instead. I'm about to go into vivid detail about tapeworms so if don't want to read about tapeworms, feel free to visit why I think babies are useless.

Why tapeworms are totally awesome scary
Tapeworms seem kind of great at first. You're all "Hey I'm losing so much weight and eating so much! This is AWESOME!" You're wrong. You are oh so wrong. They're being stingy and eating all of your food, robbing you of that precious nutrition (that you're obviously getting from a Twinkie). They have mad crazy hooks that catch onto the walls of your intestines and can even replicate inside of you. These things don't even have intestinal tracks, and they are also both male and female! What's next world domination? I think so. All of this could also point that a tapeworm is, in fact, an alien.

You may have a tapeworm if you're eating four kajillion calories a day and not gaining a pound, or you may be an alien. Look, I'm not here to judge. Below is an accurate drawing of what a tapeworm looks like:

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Babies are Useless

No really...they are. I want to know one thing your baby has done for you, because I'm pretty sure your baby has never put away their dishes or cleaned their own poop. They are sacks of flesh that you have to cart around and clean up after. Yeah it could be a token, a sort of prize that you can show everyone, but what happens if your baby is ugly? You can't trade your baby for fun things like a free stay at a hotel, or use them like reward points for discounts at Best Buy. Babies serve no purpose except to repopulate the world, which by the way is a bad idea because we're already way overpopulated.

Taking your useless baby with you to the grocery store is annoying. They cry, and scream and throw things like little baboons wrapped up a cute package. It's like getting a really beautiful present and opening it up and it's a gaggle of snakes and you're all like "Holy crap! It's a bunch of snakes! Oh god they're biting me!" and your friend is all like "But it was in a pretty package!" yeah. Babies are venomous snakes wrapped in pretty gift wrap...unless your baby is ugly, in which case it's ugly gift wrap. You carry this tiny humanoid type being INSIDE of you for approximately nine months. Chances are your baby is an alien. How many times have YOU developed from two cells and mitosified all over the place until you became large enough to barrel your way out of a vagina? That is NOT normal.

Also notice I tagged Jesus in this post...that's right Jesus, I'm looking at did all of this.

Hate me all you want, you know I'm right.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Reasons Why You Should Probably (not) Be Friends With Me

I have a strange compulsion to text all the time. I think it's because I have a fear that if I do not constantly text my hand will contract gangrene and will have to be amputated. Below I have compiled a rather extensive list of texts that I have sent or strange things that I have said that make me completely awesome.


Sent: I just ran over horse poop is that bad luck?

Sent: She was thinking "What sounds super bada** for this beast of a baby?". That's what she was thinking.

Sent: (referring to the radar on Highway 113) I hate that blinky sign, it's like it's judging me for speeding. Oh hey look at me I blink and you're doing something WRONG! Like the radar hasn't sped before. Is sped a word?

Sent: -dehydrated- -died-
Sent: (after not receiving a response) Hello? Don't you love me? Dehydration!

Sent: (after suggesting that we steal a car) Tell them that we're playing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and we were looking for hookers to shoot. Duh.

Sent: (discussing a friend being hit on by an ugly person) You should be like "Thanks now I have to go tend to my garage full of dead babies!"

Things I have said...

Martin: "Why are all those cars parked there?"
Mallory: "That's a car lot."

Martin: "Why are there so many cops there!"
Waylon: "That's the police station."

Martin: "You are such a lesbi-slut"

Martin: "I didn't know Church's delivered." (after seeing what I thought was a bicycle and a hot/cold bag [it was a row of chairs and a rolled up rug])

Things you will NOT find on my eHarmony profile...

I'm prone to drooling on people.

I think it's funny to sneeze on you.

I think your reaction is even better.

If you tickle me I will punch you in the face.

I like things that have to do with punching.

I'm probably a serial killer.

I'm definitely a serial killer.

Just kidding...or am I?

Monday, October 18, 2010

Technorati Claim


Sweet Home Alabama

The Beginning of Ear Meth...

The song "Sweet Home Alabama" by the southern rock band Lynyrd Skynyrd is like ear meth for Alabama residents. Upon first hearing the song you kind of enjoy it and it is about your state so you are obliged to listen, with more exposures to the song you find yourself strangely drawn to it and then finally full blown mind-numbing addiction. You find yourself listening to the song on repeat on your iPod or in your automobile. You don't know how this happened or even when it started, all you know is you have to have more of this anthem, with its slow plucking intro to the melodic tune of the chorus.

The Trance Begins...

When this song is exposed in a crowd of people a phenomena that you usually see exclusively in melodramatic musicals. Everyone immediately stops whatever their doing, whether it's grocery shopping at the local Wal-Mart, or driving down the road in your rusty old pickup truck. You hear it, the faint thrumming of the intro segueing into the first verse. The sensory-motor receptors in your brain start firing off synapses at every point and your mind goes numb. You are the song's slave. The ear meth has taken full effect, and you no longer have control of yourself. A physical manifestation of the song takes form and you find yourself singing along, bobbing your head, and tapping your foot. Resisting the force is futile, it has you, you are it's captive. Prisoners of Guantanamo Bay have a higher chance of escaping than you do. You look around and notice that everyone is in the same trance as you are. It is a sea of "Sweet Home Alabama" singing zombies.

When Faced With Accusations...

Rarely, after the trancing has run it's course and the song has released the victim's brains, a foreigner to the area will ask what just happened. When presented with this question a native will most likely say "What do you mean what just happened? You guys don't do that?" and the foreigner will back off due to fear that beer-stained overall wearing Bubba, who has no teeth due to chewing too much tobacco, will tear him limb from limb.