"I am 10 times more hairy than every guy I've dated LOL" --tumblr user
I was walking along a hallway today as normal, when suddenly I felt the urge to sneeze. I raised my arm up to cover the lower half of my face, as is only proper. But then I passed a few people- and suddenly the urge subsided without a trace. I'm usually a chain sneezer, but this time I didn't sneeze even once. What could be the cause behind this unusual occurrence? Naturally my first thoughts point towards occult means. Could one of the people I passed have extended a sorcerous probe into my head and remotely snuffed out my urge to sneeze? Perhaps it was all of them, casting some unspoken ritual. How considerate of them. Now I'm really thinking. By logical extension, would the reverse also be possible? Could you just sort of...reach into someone and give them the urge to sneeze? The ramifications are terrifying, biological warfare will never be the same. Arrgh the flies are back
first there was the cricket, that hopped through the kitchen, then the bedroom floor. it's reedy mating cry has inspired many a bout of insomnia. then there are the flies. in the dark of night they flock to my computer screen and throw off my concentration. with a steady thumb i splat one after the other, cleaning my hand and monitor after every kill, but there seems to be no end to their number.
"In the middle of September/We'd still play out in the pain" --Nickelback
Ready for a good old fashioned LIFE PRO TIP? Me neither. Thus begins another lame crappy post about mundane happenstances.
For the kiddies who don't know, overdraft is a general term for when you try to withdraw or pay out more money than your bank account has. The bank will pay out the money anyway and give you a negative balance.
For corporations, this is a useful tactic that is done deliberately for investments and to jump-start ventures.
For individuals, this is a terrible and costly mistake.
You can probably guess which category I fall into. I ordered something online a couple weeks ago, but le merchant was out of stock and so it was placed on backorder. I didn't realize that my account hadn't been charged (I assumed it was like a pre-order type thing) and proceeded to make additional purchases until my account was very nearly empty. As an ostensibly financially literate adult, I only keep as much as I need right at the moment in checking accounts and the rest in higher ROI securities, so this account stayed empty for the duration. Then just yesterday, the order went through and my body was not ready for the rustling that ensued: SUNLIGHT YELLOW OVERDRAAAAAAAFT (fees) My bank actually offers a free overdraft protection service, but I didn't sign up for it because I thought I was so smart. Welp. I took a trip down memory lane to visit my old blog on WordPress, which only has like 5 posts so don't bother trying to find it. The content is kind of cringy but the format was actually cool, I really shouldn't have abandoned it. And so I'll be readopting this format for future posts. Look forward to it!
Until then, I'll continue wallowing in a pit of despair and self-loathing brought about by poor decision-making, and you can continue going about your own (likely more pleasant) mode of existence.
Let's take a trip back in time, back to when I was a wee little... being. First, imagine the chirping of crickets, and the occasional bird call. It was a hot summer day, much as it is now, and I had taken refuge from the heat in the cool interior of a library that is no longer standing.
Back then the shelves towered over my larval form, and I suspect my supervision units had left me to my own devices for a time.
My wanderings took me to a section I had never seen before. Curious, I knelt down and perused the titles on the bottom tiers. Most of them seemed to be serious, adult nonfiction, unappealing to my developing literary palate.
Then I saw one with a strange title, one that seemed too silly to be among these serious, adult books. I pulled it out, and was greeted by a stark white book jacket, upon which the title was emblazoned in large black Times New Roman characters:
Yes, it was that timeless childhood tale that we all know and love. Although I'm not sure why the jacket cover didn't look like what it should have been. Nevertheless, I was undaunted by the cover and opened the book. As I beheld the fascinating illustrations within I was drawn into a strange, ethereal experience that defies description and memory.
Pagoo is a story encompassing the life and times of a hermit crab, from his infancy as a tiny speck swirling amidst schools of plankton to the acquisition of his first shell and beyond. Despite having not read it for many years, some of its scenes remain as vivid echoes in my mind. It was perhaps my first foray into the world of xenofiction; narratives written from a nonhuman point of view.
Well, this was the most profound-sounding post I've ever made on this farce of a blog. Too bad I'm all out of profoundness for the day. Ta ta.
"Pinnochio is just a taste of his ability!" --pink haired lover boy
Have you ever had that feeling that there's something stuck in between your teeth yet no matter how hard you pick, you can't quite get it out?
firecracker hexagen
I've had this feeling for almost two days now, and at this point I'm thinking the inner edge of my tooth just got eroded for some reason. I can feel the irregularity with my tongue, but not with my teeth, and I can't see anything when I look in the mirror and shine a light down the old orifice. I must have gone through a few feet of dental floss and a millimeter of fingernail by now trying to get some relief, but the only real result I've had is making my gums bleed a little.
Ain't that a bitch? That's heavy man. Maybe it's always been like that, and I never really felt up the backside of my teeth that thoroughly with my tongue before.
Maybe it's just a plaque buildup from not brushing the backside.
A couple days ago (because I always take a few days to get around to writing this up) I had a dream in which I had traveled to this Egypt-like place with my dad and some other guys. This was probably not influenced by anything, especially not a particular work of fiction. It's useless to try and guess. Useless, useless, useless. It was night time in a vast desert with various shiny buildings sparsely scattered around. We chose to go to this big, plain stone pyramid. There was a big square opening in the center, and we all walked in. It was unlit, there was something large writhing in the darkness, and I got an immense feeling of foreboding. I recalled my horror movie dream policy of "start running before bad things even happen" and immediately high tailed it out of there before people even started dying. I ran out into the desert and as usual my running was horrifically slow, as if I was exhausted. I'm surmising this is because I'm actually trying to run in my sleep and the bed is impeding my limbs.
Suddenly it was daytime, and all the townsfolk started panicking because a sandstorm was approaching on the horizon. I saw that huge cloud of dust with a scary face like on the cover of The Mummy movie, no not that one, I mean the 1999 version with Brendan Fraser (praised be his name).
I huddled in this small alcove in an alleyway, but its protection proved to be insufficient. The first wave of the storm hit, because this storm comes in waves. The experience was akin to being hit with Boomer bile in Left 4 Dead, except it was sand and my outer layers were being ground off. The wave passed, giving me a brief respite, but I knew I wasn't likely to survive the second wave, completely exposed as I was. Lord knows what the fifth wave would have done. Probably turn me into some lovesick little girl.
I decided to take shelter in this building that was like a fusion of a pharmacy and a government DMV type facility. The situation escalated when some rough looking folks came in looking for me, and I had to slip out again.
My recollection of what transpired after that is fuzzy but at some point I was walking around a Korean harbor at sunset looking for fountains and other perverted stuff.
I don't usually make spelling mistakes, at least not ones that I don't notice and correct immediately. Today I was typing quadruped into the search engine but spelled it "quadraped" instead and only noticed after hitting enter. Talk about Freudian slips. It just sounds so extreme though if you think about it: QUAD RAPED! Like four rapes in a row, or rape with an ATV. Oh yeah, I forgot to warn you guys: this blog post mentions rape. Earlier I was at the mall, seeing how much more fashionable everyone else was compared to me. Clad in a blue collared t-shirt and khaki shorts, I realized I was the spitting image of a Best Buy employee. If there was a Best Buy nearby I'd probably get kicked out because they'd think I was trying that Geek Squad impersonation prank a bunch of people tried a couple years back.
Oh, it was actually more than a decade ago, so chances are you don't know what I'm referring to. This'll get you up to speed:
https://improveverywhere.com/2006/04/23/best-buy/
I thought my worries were unfounded, as this mall didn't have enough space for a Best Buy store. But then I turned a corner and lo and behold, there was a Best Buy Mobile!
While I was there I also noticed that the Chick-fil-a had been replaced by a House of Kabob. Not sure when that happened, but its almost like a direct cultural swap occurred. Gonna have to get those waffle fries elsewhere now.
It's around 10 o'clock in the morning, and all's well. I've been watching the night slowly turn to day for the past four hours in the comfort of my bed. This is primarily due to a bout of insomnia preventing me from sleeping in on the weekend.I've already finished reading all of the books I got, and backed up my files on ye olde external drive, so I once again return to the sustaining solace of the internet.
Let's talk about cringy children's book authors. Is it just me, or does Rick Riordan look a lot like DJ MacHale? It could be the pose, their similar professions, or maybe I'm not as good at telling white folks apart as I thought I was. Here's a side by side comparison, so you can decide for yourself: Uncanny, isn't it? But then you have this magnificent bastard:
This man is my hero.
Holy crap I just slacked off for half an hour from finishing this post. Let me just leave you with something nice for the road, before the hour changes and I must depart to greener shores.
Tragic irony has vindicated my previous post. Last night I somehow twisted my leg at a weird angle while sleeping, delivering an unending holocaust of pain. Well not really, I just needed to make a Lyttle Lytton reference. It did hurt like hell for the first minute or so, and then settled down to a dull ache, which persists to this moment.
Naturally the first thing I did was check for bleeding or bruising (a sign of internal bleeding for the anatomically impaired) but there doesn't appear to be any. In other "news", there's going to be a sequel to that movie about a weird ass board gayme, except in lieu of the now departed Williams the star power is the Rock. This would be fine, if they didn't try to shoehorn in some stupid video game tropes. This is an international travesty.
In recent times it seems that it takes some sort of bodily ailment to get me to do one of these posts. Fortunately no such affliction plagues me at this time, if you discount some normal sleepiness and a recurring ache I get from flexing my right middle finger to scroll the mouse wheel. I hypothesize the latter may be due to a puncture wound from several weeks ago, but that was positively tiny and should have healed by now. I certainly don't feel the same pain in my index finger, which suffered the same injury.
TRIGGER WARNING: POLITICS!
A couple days ago I dreamed that I had convinced Donald Trump to adopt me as his son, and was now set up to live the rest of my life in opulence and luxury. It was pretty cool, going into conference rooms and feeling all high class. But then the world turned into Minecraft and I kept falling into these crummy dirt caves in the hills, which is pretty similar to what happens when I actually played Mein kraft.
My shorts are too short and my shirt is too long. Both are a pallid white, quite fitting for a "laundry day" outfit.
Let's discuss juice drink pouches. No, not juice boxes, but the squishy kind. These silvery beverage containers were first used (or at least codified in the public mindset) by Capri-Sun, and now also by Kool-Aid in their "Jammers" line. Oh yeah. They even use the same pointy yellow straws. Which brings us to the main topic: you ever notice how it's easier to take the straw out by pushing it down through the bottom of its wrapper, despite the fact that the pointy end is on top? After sacrificing half a box's worth of straws in my quest for truth I've found that this holds true even when it's upside down, ruling gravity out as a factor. So what's the cause behind this phenomenon? It's all in the leverage. You see, the bottom half of the straw's wrapper is attached to its pouch via a weak chemical adhesive(aka glue) while the top half can move freely. This holds it in place so that when you push the straw down it'll punch through the wrapper's bottom and exit in one smooth motion. Contrast that to the "normie" method where you pull down the top so the pointy end pierces through and you have to pull the whole thing out.
I'm going through a sort of creative drought these days, it took me a week to accumulate all of this.
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