Get it? It was used but didn't open. They probably died. I can't believe you thought that was funny. You're sick.
I'm just going to give you a heads up, this blog gets a little weird. I don't know why, but I started losing it about halfway through. That being said, I take no responsibility for anything that happens as a result. If you are new to the blog, here is a link to the liability waiver: Click Here
I've noticed something that is related to eye contact in a relationship. And no, it's not that eye contact shows respect, that's a given. Unless they're blind, then it's forgivable. Side note: Never assume that the person is just being a dick, because sometimes they actually are blind, and I.....I mean you look like an asshole. Anyway, what I've noticed is this: Eye contact goes in stages correlating with the level of closeness with that person.
-Stage 1: You don't know them, so there is minimal, if any, eye contact. Unless you're one of those people that stare at the person hoping that your gaze will be enough to make them fall madly in love for you, but that just makes you really creepy and stupid and you don't count. So yea, Stage 1 is when there might be a fleeting glance, but until you're introduced, basically nothing.
-Stage 2: You've now met, hopefully names have been exchanged, if not, give up and leave with your dignity still in tact. Now you're at the awkward just-met-you-so-we-can't-make-eye-contact-for-more-than-a-couple-seconds-at-a-time-without-it-being-weird eye contact.
-Stage 3: It's increasing because now you're friends. However, you're not great friends, so it's at the point where you feel like you need to be locking eyes with them whenever they're speaking to let them know you're avidly listening, and if eye contact is what turns you on, then relish this point because it is the highest it gets, and here it is dressed in full-body Kevlar and reinforced with steel. Now, contrary to popular belief, the consistency begins to waiver.
[There are two paths from here, the dating path and the just friends path.]
-Friend Stage 4: At this point, you're besties. Torn between getting matching tattoos or those necklaces that fit together to make a heart, you are basically friends to the death. At this point, eye contact is almost nonexistent. You know them so well that you don't even give them a glance when they randomly walk into your house, and the only way they could get one would be to drop down your chimney singing Ke$ha with the actual Easter Bunny in hand. Even then, you'd probably just tell them to clean off the ash and get the bunny out of your house. All formalities are out the window, and as far as conversation goes, having a chat sitting on the same couch is as easy as talking to them via walky-talky just outside the 5-mail range while Hurricane Stacy blows the Ohio State marching band right next to your window.
-Dating Stage 4: Here, there is about a month when eye contact makes a try at a comeback, because you're freshly smitten and now it's public. Shortly after, however, The Dating Stage 4 begins to resemble Friend Stage 4, and you're screwed.
-Friend Stage 5: Death. Stage 4 lasts until one of you is gone, end of story.
-Dating Stage 5: It lessens and lessens in frequency until middle age, when the "You won't even look at me anymore!" fights begin.
-Dating Stage 6: Small comeback. But it's short-lived and you soon progress to the elderly version of Friend Stage 4, but this time it's because you are happily senile, and aren't really even sure if you know that person who's always following you around.
I'm adding this little tidbit because the previous and following paragraphs are so large. Take 5 deep breaths, rub your eyes, yell something, and slap yourself. Good? Alright, continue....
Everybody's dreams are weird, right? Wrong. Some people don't even dream at all, don't be naive. It is scientifically proven (because I said so). Some people, however, dream like they've been taking hardcore hallucinogens for the majority of their early life. Ladies and gentlemen, I am one of those people. After last night, I am completely convinced that the late Andy Warhol and the writers for Mad TV are cooperating to design my dreams. Hold on to your hats people, it's about to get crazy. I'm just gonna do a stream of consciousness and you can judge from there:
I gain awareness in a rundown city surrounded by the ruins of buildings, with roughly the population of Rhode Island's small children sprinting all around me who are incredibly agile and are doing parkour and climbing buildings; this weirds me out a little so I walk down to what looks like a gross pond formed from a flood and possibly sewage, but upon reaching it I realize that it is an oasis surrounded by palm trees. Nice change, right? WRONG. There is a full-size buffalo on the other side of the pond and HE. IS. PISSED. He charges me, and what he lost by looking comfortingly fluffy, he compensates for with complete and utter rage. I blackout. I regain consciousness in my friends house who we'll call Dr. Gonzo. Dr. Gonzo has graced us with donuts. But what catches my eye is that one of the most popular donuts isn't even a donut. It's a gourd. Google it. Dr. Gonzo rant about how good the donut gourd is, and how we must try one. As my other friend, who will go by Raoul Duke, picks one up, I find that this donut gourd is actually serving as a cup for apple cider. But wait!! Apple cider is too normal for this dream, you say??? Well it's your lucky day, because in this dreamt up donut gourd, the apple cider is infused with heroine. Yes, you heard right. Heroine filled donuts. End scene. If you're still reading, congratulations because I personally would have fled to another time zone and assumed a different name purely in hopes that I would never come into to contact with the obviously insane-beyond-all-reason writer of this blog. Thanks for sticking with me though.
Fact of the Day: 4,000 people are injured by teapots every year.
Shout out to Dewar Gleissner.
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