Cross your fingers for tomorrow!

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.

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 you...you did all of this.

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

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.

Why It Takes Me Forever To Leave My House

Every time I get ready to go somewhere I have to gather roughly around nine million objects to take with me. Usually these objects are irrelevant to where I'm going, it just makes me happy to have them with me, e.g. Chapstick, deodorant, extra outfit, bear repellent, unicorn magic. I have to make myself go through a step by step process to get all of the items out of the house and into my car. This process usually kills about thirty minutes to an hour of my life and unfortunately I'll never get that time back. It's like it is physically impossible for me to get all of the items I need BEFORE I get in my car. Here's the usual process:

1. Make sure you have all the items and head out to your car.

2. Realize you forgot your cell phone in the one spot it has reception in your house.

3. Go back to your recently locked front door and realize you left your house key in your car.

4. Unlock your front door and get your phone.

5. Forget that you left your keys in some random spot that is totally NOT where you left them.

6. Finally locate keys and get in car.

7. Realize your forgot your ID, money AND your glasses.

8. Repeat steps 1-7 only with different items.

I apologize to anyone whom I may have made late in this process. Oh look I found my keys!

Camping...

There are very few times when I dare to venture into the woods and force myself to stay there in primitive conditions in a vinyl sack for shelter. Armed with just an air mattress and a comforter from my household bed, my friends and I decided it would be a terrible GREAT idea to go camping! No. Just no. First of all the campground we were going to go to only had "non-electrical" sites left, and let me tell you I am NOT camping without electricity because as soon as my phone goes dead I will be attacked by a rabid beaver and not have any way to call for help. So, we found an alternate campsite in the backwoods....yeah.

Well the person giving us directions politely left out the fact that you weren't supposed to turn at the first road with the sign for the campground, but instead turn at the second one. Twenty-five miles later we were pretty much lost. This road wasn't even named. We turned on a road that was all "HEY RECREATION AREA THIS WAY WOOO", turns out that sign is a dirty liar! Turning around was our only option. After we corrected that gargantuan mistake we made we found the right road! It doesn't get better. We drove for a long time and saw another sign that was all "HEY GUESS WHAT RECREATION AREA THIS WAY YEAHHH!!" and I was all "I'm not falling for THAT again." After about four more miles we passed a teeny tiny sign that was all "campground this way -->" and two dirt roads, a startled deer family, and a few trees later we found the campground.

Upon reaching the campground, I had this sinking feeling that was like "what have I done", but I ignored it because usually my instincts are wrong anyway! Not. We paid our campground fee and set up our tents. Now, two people like Mallory and me trying to set up a tent is like watching a paraplegic monkey dance for coins. AFTER that fiasco was over (Mallory didn't have stakes for her tent so in the event of a windstorm she would have blown away). All was well and we were all "YEAH WE'RE EFFING CAMPERS" until we realized we didn't pack enough food....

Hm.

Yeah.

So after the HOUR it took to go get food from town, we got back only to find that our camp had been invaded by LARGE BEAR-MUTATED CREATURES aka opossums. They were hidden in the woods being all "Hey we're large and in charge rustling these leaves." So I was all brave and hid on the top of my car while Mallory found a flashlight. That was a fun conversation that went a little like this:

Me: They can't get me up here. (Hiding on top of car)

Mallory: GET THE F*@#^$& FLASHLIGHT HOLY COWWWW!!!!

Me: I'm not getting the flashlight...

Mallory: GET IT!!!

Me: It's your flashlight.

ME: 1 Mallory: 0

Then the opossums got mad because we were shining a light on them so they left. All went well for a little while and then we laid down to go to sleep, and then I hit the reality that I forgot to pack a pillow. So while trying to sleep the bearopossums came back and decided to make loud angry woodsy noises outside of our tent causing me and Mallory to arm ourselves with the flashlight. Again, we beat them with our light power. I was sleeping peacefully when I woke up to coyotes howling at 3 A.M.

The next morning we packed up and went home.

Where's an Aztec Virgin when I need one...

This is why you stay off of Omegle late at night:

Stranger: well...they're a stranger. I call him Debbie.

You: Me...

Stranger: Hey

You: hello!

Stranger: What's up?

You: nothing at all! i just had a conversation with someone who wanted me to have sex with a dog! my night is AWESOME -_-

Stranger: I sense so

Stranger: Some sarcasm*

You: lol don't joke. i can see you turning green with envy.

Stranger: Yeah I wish I met more people who were into beastealiy

You: who doesn't? how are you?

Stranger: Horny now haha jk I'm good and you?

You: i'm about two more psychos away from dancing it out in my kitchen to old school Brittney.

Stranger: Haha that is the weirdest reaction I've heard

You: lol really?

Stranger: Yeah people are usually like I swear I'm going to stab a bitch or something like that

You: oh. well that's usually me after i have a few more drinks and ready access to kitchenware.

Stranger: Haha well at least dancing is alot less violent

You: yes. unless you're doing a "let's sacrifice a virgin so the sun god will save our crops" dance.

Stranger: And it includes less jailtime

You: another perk. but bad crops.

Stranger: Hmmm well that's just a sacrifice well have to make

You: what? jail time or healthy crops? because i really like my vegetables.

You: where's an aztec virgin when you need them!

Stranger: I was going to say healthy crops is a sacrifice

Stranger: And all the Aztecs are dead

You: what a debbie downer.

Stranger: Maybe a Mexican virgin will work

You: cause you're all "AZTECS ARE DEAD, LEMME RAIN ON YOUR PARADE" well guess what! I won't settle for Mexican.

Stranger: Hmm well I'm bit into jail any more cus I don't feel like getting raped by a large man

You: you just have to show them who's boss. or find a huge man and give him your bojangles in exchange for protection.

You: chances are you'll catch hepatitis. but that's another sacrifice.

Despite Popular Belief, I am NOT Justin Bieber...

No really...I'm not. This is the THIRD time someone I have never met before in my life has compared me to Justin Bieber. I mean SERIOUSLY. No. This is just....no. THIS IS WORSE THAN THE BOOB VIDEO. How dare they? I do not look like a rat do not favor Justin's facial features. I have composed a side by side image rendition to show you people that Justin Bieber looks totally like a mole rat different than I do. So here you go! See what you make me do? You make me post poor photos of myself making THE POUTY PUPPY FACE. Do you really want that on your conscience? I mean really? Every time you compare me to J-Biebs, God kills a kitten. Think about it. Think before you call me the Biebster. Totally different hairstyles mine is cooler , different bone structure, different teeth, AND I'M PALE! Like not just pale, but pure placid. I make ghosts look tan. I go out on the beach and people have to wear sunglasses to LOOK at me. Okay I think I'm finished ranting. Just to recap: Martin does not equal J-Biebs. God kills kittens when you think that. FOR SHAME. Do not let them down.

Confessions of a Procrastinator

I get distracted with things like taking pictures of fake flowers!

I need help.

I feel like maybe I have some off the wall case of ADHD that keeps me from participating competently in every day life and that's kind of depressing...but then I get distracted and start thinking about other things so it doesn't really matter anyway. However, the ADHD keeps me from doing vital things in my life...sort of like breathing. If I were in charge of my own breathing I would certainly be dead by now due to forgetting to breathe. Obviously. Try to keep up. So I've finally made it all the way around the internet and back to my blog! HOORAY! I definitely wouldn't mind doing this for a living...even though I will probably have to live with my parents forever...I don't think they'll care...maybe. Maybe I can find a nice basement to inhabit like those creepy guys you see on movies that sit there in their underwear and their Star Trek t-shirts watching Battlestar Gallactica and wondering if they'll ever lose their virginity like Steve Carell in that one movie.

I don't know...that doesn't really seem like me.

Or maybe it does. I'm not such a fan of Battlestar Gallactica though. Maybe I'm broken. Anyway. So far in life I have procrastinated on getting a real people job. I am simply not cut out for today's work force. They want you to do so many things...like work. Isn't there a job out there where I can do ....nothing? It doesn't have to pay much just enough to pay for the little things like trips to far away islands and a condo on the beach. I don't think I'm asking for too much here. I think the world should help me out here. (I'm a democrat remember)

Another wonderful thing I'm procrastinating on is growing up! I think that's like some sort of biological, psychological state of being that I'm not capable of completing. I feel like I'm going to be one of those people that wait until they're 50 to want a baby and then they're like oh crap my uterus has already retired...WELL I have news for you people! I will grow up before my uterus retires! Maybe. If I remember to try.

What is up with me posting during the middle of the night? It's like I'm incapable of sleeping before 3 A.M. and I don't even sleep late. At 9 A.M. every morning the sun unfortunately lights up my entire room against my will. No respect. I swear. So I guess what I'm trying to say is my inability to get shit done will end up one day affecting my life in some way. But luckily it procrastinates too.