September 2009

I've been straining for a jumping off point for tonight's entry, and other than doing more website work (boring) and Brewfest quests and getting a ProtoDrake whelp (not boring to me, but probably boring to those who don't play World of Warcraft,) nothing has actually struck me as a good blog post. So instead, I'm going to tell you a bunch of disturbing things I know. First, we'll start out with a story:

My friend, K-80 and my friend Jebs once were having lunch with Jebs' mom. Apparently they were having a good time, talking, laughing, discussing college education and TV. Typical conversation a normal crew may have over lunch. Then, finally... Jebs' mom says something along this

J.Mom: Jebs, hand me the cunt, I'll eat it.
K-80: ....WHAT?
J.Mom: You know. The cunt. *points to bread* The end of the bread. That's called a cunt.

UH EXCUSE ME MRS. JEBS MOM. In what world is the end of the bread actually called the cunt of the bread? I mean, just listen to yourself when you talk! The BreadCunt?! I've heard heel. I've even heard butt. Never cunt.

Just... No. No!

(I can feel my mothers potential scorn burning through the open IM window I have with her, all because I said "cunt" in my blog.)

Second story I've got, is about incorrectly using a word, when you mean to use another.

Okay, how many of you out there have a facebook? Just about everyone? Me too. In fact, I have  had two. I have one that is pretty public, based around this website. Then, I have had my private one. You know, for family and friends and for people who may actually think I'm an okay person (as they don't read my blog.) Just kidding. Everyone knows I am a terrible person there is no reason to ever pretend otherwise.

I digress.

Facebook is terrible. At first, in college, it was kind of useful. You could use it to find out what kids took the same class as you. People could learn a little bit about each other in a somewhat secure environment. Then, it started becoming mildy annoying with all the group invites. I swear to God, there is a group for everything. Often multiple groups for everything. I'd get 35+ invites a day for stupid things. Then, eventually the chaos died down... And right after that? The applications started. Now, I'll admit. Some are nice. You can link your WoW armory accounts to show off your WoW characters to fellow MMO geeks. Graffiti allows you to draw pictures for your friends. There's a twitter app. These things are fun.

Farmville? Fuck farmville. I don't want to become an internet farmer. I don't want to grow crops. If I wanted to do this shit, I'd play Harvest Moon, SIM Farm or I'd... Well, become a farmer, I guess. And the amount of Twilight Apps? Or the "When will you get married/pregnant/die?" apps? Its becoming a bit much. And I swear to God every time I get an invite for an App, I kind of want to kill the person who sent it.

Ohman. Have you ever had one of those days where you've just been so insanely delirious from a large amount of benadryl and you couldn't manage to get out a coherent blog post no matter how hard you tried? No? Just me? Just me. Alright. Well, regardless. I woke up this morning at 6:45am with a face full of snot that was about the consistency of Elmer's school glue, and I've been popping Benadryl like tic-tacs since. So I apologize that this blog post will probably be less than exciting, but I'm going to make a decent effort before my nose stuffs up and I have to pop two or three more and go into a coma for about 6-8 hours.

Do you ever think about how many things in your world could KILL you? I mean seriously, I have a list of irrational fears that could probably stretch out a mile long. And I don't mean like bugs, bats, spiders, bears, etc etc. Nothing irrational but still kind of logical. I mean, a lot of really irrational things. Like areosol cans. I'm terrified of areosol cans. It isn't like I -won't- use an areosol can... But I'll be honest. The entire time I use them I'm mentally spazzing about how it is basically a bomb. If someone leaves an areosol can of shaving cream in our bathtub, I'll locate it, pick it up, and hide it behind the wall of the shower, under the bathroom sink. I always feel like they're so much more prone to exploding if they get wet.

Or what about bugs climbing into your nose while sleeping? I think this probably stemmed from the fact that one time I woke up and found an ant on my pillow. I flicked it off and then went back to sleep. However... When I woke up, I thought to myself. "Sure, he was on my pillow then... But where was he ten minutes prior. What if he was heading into my nose? What if he had just came out of my nose." And now at least once a week, I have a tiny mental spazz when I think about that ant, and how he was probably just moving some of his ant-things into my nose, getting ready to help start a new colony, in there. Then, after some chronic headaches, one day, I'd sneeze and hundreds upon hundreds of ants would start pouring out of my nose. The doctor would do an MRI and discover that they'd hollowed out my brain and were now using it as a base of operations. And then give me a two weeks to live sentence, and I'd be sitting alone in my room, picking ants out of my nose and getting my final affairs in order.

But that's a normal irrational fear, right? Everyone else has that fear, right? No? Great, just me then.