Reflective

Lately I have had to dive into my mind and sort out a lot of personal thoughts and events of my past. It’s been difficult to accept why things went down like they did and I have had to abandon the feeling of regret when it comes to those situations. I have to remember that I’m not the only person in the world going through this.

And it could be worse. I could be in a piranha tank slathered in raw meat juice with my hair on fire. Or something like that.

First time for everything?

So I was having dinner with my old friend Christina when suddenly we started talking about dead people.

Christina: When I had to go to a wake, I couldn’t see the body. I was too freaked out.

Me: While I was at my Grandpa’s wake I touched his forehead.

Christina: Oh gross! Why did you do that?

Me: Touching a dead person is like touching a dolphin. You will probably do it once in your lifetime and people will always ask you to describe what it felt like. And honestly, soul-less bodies feel like frozen Thanksgiving turkeys. I imagine zombies feel like this. Does that mean the living feel like cooked turkeys? No wonder zombies want to eat us.

Christina: Yep, I’m not surprised that is floating around in your head.

“I’m ticklish”

Stress Relief

If you’ve ever been through a Walgreens/CVS checkout line, you have definitely seen a stress ball or stress toy of some kind. They come in all sizes, shapes, and colors and they are meant to rid people of vicious murderous tendencies caused by stress due to being overworked, having a non-existent sex life, or having to look after their kids sober because they ran out of Vodka. While I have seen people take full advantage of the stress ball’s purpose, I am not satisfied with their healing features. In fact, I am more so grossed out by these things. Half of the time they look disgusting and those who actually use them to relieve stress leave their greasy hand residue all over them. Some of them look like a normal smiley face ball or a squishy cartoon animal that you can mutilate without the guilty suicidal aftermath. But these days they either look like alien condoms or puss-filled zit clusters.

“This is so much fun! I love getting money shots from used alien cock socks!”

How were these things invented? Perhaps some old scientist grew tired of strangling his wife to relieve his stress and created new fun ways to relieve himself of his demons. Or, maybe these are actually alien condoms sent to us from a galaxy far, far away to control Earth’s population? Maybe these space condoms prevent pregnancy on a higher scale. Say it releases a chemical that is caused by friction that can make men sterile for a year. Oh man, hand those out to schools! Just tell them they are flavored or glow in the dark to make their cocks look like a dicksaber. This will totally put an end to those ridiculous 16 and Pregnant tv shows that are all the rage with the youngins these days.

“Who wants this one?”

Well played Aliens….well played.

Mall Pit

I know I can’t be the only one who is afraid of those mall playgrounds that are all over the place these days. I am no germaphobe, but the amount of bacteria that is transferred throughout those plastic death jungles is horrific. Sure, the disease pits are deloused maybe a few times a day, but there aren’t enough sanitation supplies or enough minimum wage workers out there that could keep them plague free. As soon as they mop up the vomit and foot fungus, the children return to play time and the bacteria returns almost instantly.

Lets play with sickness today!

Parents ignore this fact, as they seem satisfied by the idea that the pits are “cleaned”. I’ve seen people eating soft pretzels and sugar coated lard sticks (churros) inside of those playgrounds. Happily stuffing their faces and watching their children spread bacteria like a hooker spreads the clap. And yes, I am aware that there were worse contraptions that children played on before these mall pits. McDonald’s had those ball pits, which were probably going to cause the next Bubonic Plague if they weren’t eradicated. I used to play in them as a child which is most likely the reason why I have problems as an adult. Those pits are probably the cause of a lot of problems in a lot of people. I can see the class action lawsuit now:

“Do you suffer from Erectile Dysfunction? Do you occasionally experience night terrors or temporary seizures? Did you play in ball pits as a child? You may be entitled to benefits in this class action settlement.”

Thankfully, I only suffer from insanity and have large cravings for cupcakes….

Fashion Trends

One thing that most people would know about me is that I am no fashionista. I care about fashion like I care about old fat ass politicians. Fashion these days change and mutate like new technology, except new technology is exciting and gets me moist. New fashion is basically old fashion, but now it has a new 21st century twist on it. The old monkey suit is redesigned to look exactly how it did in the 60’s, except now it has about 65% less fabric to show off more skin while maintaining the same colors and look of a bloated decorative squash. Most men wouldn’t consider this to be a problem, but half of the female population sporting this trend are 17 and younger.

It’s a trap! You can’t repel the daddy issues of that magnitude!

Really, I have no eye for fashion. I used to have a phase I like to call my “Tent Phase”. This phase lasted from age 15 until 22. I call it my “Tent Phase” because in the beginning I wore huge goth/rave pants and graduated to oversized mens clothing in the end. Not only did it make me look like I had frog ass, it  made me as appealing as butch lesbian with a pronounced mustache. It was all in the name of comfort even if I looked horrible. Though to this day I still dress for comfort. Granted I don’t wear mens clothing anymore, but I’m certainly not going to wear low rise shorty shorts and risk getting arrested for traumatizing people at the grocery store with my dead white legs. But I’ve noticed throughout the years that fashion is getting more and more skimpy. I can only assume that in 20 years it will be acceptable to go outside naked only if your junk is covered with pasties or au natural grown out body fros. Too bad Lady Gaga, I was totally rooting for your telephone hat and meat dress fashion trend to become our nation’s future wardrobe.

I fucking love you, Vegan Devil

What better way to improve the environment by recycling garbage into clothing? Too many black Hefty bags from your murder days? Turn them into stunning evening dresses! Don’t throw out that beer bottle! Smash it and embed the shards into your skin for body bling! Too many heroin needles to throw out? Turn them into stylish new earrings! Wow, maybe I do know a thing or two about fashion after all!

Ice Cream Terrors

I’m pretty sure that Pedobear has taken over the ice cream companies. While shopping today I stumbled across this box of treasure:

“Hey kids, I have some fudge bars in my van if you want some…”

I wonder how they interview people for the opportunity to be on ice cream boxes. What would the job description say?

“Must have a face that would make 7 year old children trust you. Clean shaven or pencil mustaches only. Registered sex offenders welcome! Field experience preferred.”

Blue Bell also have those radio ads with that pleasant country song singing about the happy colorful joy of Blue Bell ice cream. Before, there was a running gag with my peers about these commercials. We would call it “Redneck Ice Cream” and say it was made from breast milk. Now, it’s “Pedo Ice Cream” and it’s made from……well, you get the idea. Point is, I’m never eating this stuff ever again. You shouldn’t either.

Death by Sugar

I, like most women, have terrible cravings. For some it’s chocolate, or sex, or a big fat bucket o’ fried chicken. While I crave all of those things like normal women (minus the fried chicken because I like not being a 300 lb mammoth), I am craving a red velvet cupcake. Not just any red velvet cupcake; The best fucking red velvet cupcake on the planet. Lots of frosting and garnished with white chocolate shavings. This cupcake probably causes the kind of orgasms that intern physicists get when listening to an audio loop of Neil Degrasse Tyson breathing.

“You like it when I talk dirty to you, don’t you??”

One of these days I will get that damn cupcake….

The Good, The Bad, and The ComiCon

It’s that time of year for all comic book nerds, D&D advocates, science fiction gurus, and even the anime retards (who always seem to find a way to attend and dominate all nerdy social gatherings) to meet in one place and enjoy panels from legendary people, eat tons of junk food and binge on Mountain Dew: Live Wire, and get an excuse to cosplay in costumes that, on some people, would be considered indecent exposure and would make me want to burn my eyes out with cattle prod dipped in acid just to ease the pain. Yes, ComiCon is back in Phoenix. I usually attend, but I have my own reasoning for not blessing this event with my presence this year. But like indigestion, it will be back soon enough.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy going to ComiCon and have the fabled “nerdgasms” when given the reason, but perhaps this annual festival is losing it’s magic. Some of the panels are amazing, of course, but some of them are just plain insane. One of them is “Do your own voice over to a Japanese Hentai!”. I’m sorry, what? So let me get this straight….you are going to cram a bunch of mouth-breathing anime nerds in a small room and have them moan into microphones? Scratch that….mouth-breathing MALE anime nerds. I don’t know, maybe one crazy obese women will attend, but I guarantee these men are going for the chance to hear “hot chicks” making sounds they will never hear in real life. The ultimate male anime nerd fantasy. I can’t see this going over well. All of them trying to find a dark corner of the room to whip out “Stubby the Wonder Rod” and wait for the magic to happen. Fuck that noise. You’re better off staying at home and fapping it to internet porn for 3 reasons:

1: You’re alone and not among a sausage fest (unless that’s your thing…)

2: You will actually hear a women in porn moan. You don’t have to wait for one to be gutsy and show up to this event to make sexy sounds for you. (OR you can go out and meet a girl and get laid that way! Magic!)

3: This event is fucking creepy and if you are attending sober, you have some serious issues to work out

I certainly hope this abomination doesn’t reappear at next year’s ComiCon. Hopefully because it will be a complete failure. As for the rest of the things going on this year: Geek Speed Dating, Cosplay 101 (oh please teach them to wear something appropriate to their body mass….), and How to Knit a Jayne Hat (totally want one!), carry on and be free to be nerdy.

Leech Paranoia

People do stupid things every day, be it putting water on a grease fire, trying to jump in the pool through the convenience of the 2nd story balcony, or even letting a woman drive during rush hour traffic. It happens. Or does it? What possesses these people to do stupid things that lead to maiming themselves or others? It occurred to me during a conversation I had today, that perhaps people make stupid decisions because they are being controlled by brain leeches? Think about it; what goes through someone’s mind when they drop their wedding ring down the kitchen sink? “I’ll just dig it out from underneath the soft and cuddly garbage disposal blades of friendship without disabling it”. No! I’ve seen this movie. I know what happens. They should too, but they do it anyway. It has to be mind control. Brain leeches are nothing but trolls who hang out in our minds making us do stupid things. After we lose a limb or die horribly, they return to their base camp for bragging rights then leave to infect another innocent.

Hey girls! Check out my new accessory! It only cost my dignity and self control!

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m fairly certain there are just stupid people out there. After all, 1 in 200 people are direct decedents of Genghis Khan, so we are all a little inbred in a way. Though it is possible that the ones controlling these mind manipulating specimens could be public figures; people with high authority or have the most followers (like the Pope, Justin Bieber, or the Hypnotoad). Religion could just be a form of leech worship. Have you ever heard someone say, “God gave me this path.” or “God came to me and told me to do this.” (<–while committing sodomy with a donkey)? Perhaps “God” could just be code for “Lord Leech”. Or what about former president George Dubbya Bush? He did plenty of things that would merit him the honorary idiot scholarship to short bus camp. And how was he able to stay in office for 8 years? Because other mind control victims were the ones who voted him in? Hm…

I haven’t decoded their language yet so as of right now I am still uncertain of this theory. Though one thing is for sure, people are still going to participate in “planking” on the 7th story rooftop, binge drink on Southern Comfort until their blood looks like Kool-Aid, and watch the prequel Star Wars movies. People are just going to do stupid things, mind controlling leeches or not.