As some of you might notice, this is actually an old blog. I wrote it right before my blog got deleted. Some of you may have read it, but guess what? The world doesn't revolve around you. Plus, you're an idiot and probably forgot most of it anyway. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. Anyway, I have recovered this particular post, and wouldn't want to rob those of you who haven't read it or those who would like to read it again. Whilst reading, just pretend that you were reading it around, oh say, April 20th? Thanks for sticking with me. Also, if you haven't noticed, I've added links to The Daily Tablet's Facebook page so you can "like" it, my Twitter account, and a special "Tweet This" link that shares this blog with your twitter followers. Feel free to use and/or abuse them. Now on to the more important matters.
You know what's awesome? Bacon. You know what sucks? Stubbing your toe. Those have literally nothing to do with this. Moving on. I am a very superstitious human being. That being said, I have a flight scheduled from Phoenix to Los Angeles on Friday, the 13th of May. Friday the 13th. Ring any bells? Yea, if you watch the news and see some pathetic little child sobbing in the corner of the airport, that'd be me. You'd better believe I'm taking every lucky charm I own onto the airplane with me. Hell I might even take a box of the cereal too. (I'm talking about the cereal called Lucky Charms. Try to keep up.) I'll be indulging in all my lucky traditions as well, including, but not limited to, showering backwards and eating what I call an "Anti-sandwich", which is two pieces of turkey and ham with a slice of bread in the middle. I'll be taking lucky donations too. And trust me, if I see one of those carts in the airport selling rabbit's feet, I'll be on that shit like Charlie Sheen on a pornstar made of amphetamines.
Do you know what an anagram is? If you don't, go look it up. I'll wait. Okay, now that you're up to speed, here are some of my favorite anagrams for your viewing pleasure:
[Word] --> [Anagram]
Dormitory --> Dirty room
Astronomer --> Moon starer
Mother in law --> Woman Hitler
The Morse Code --> Here come dots
Eleven plus two --> Twelve plus one
Recently I had the chance to visit an old friend in South Carolina, I'll call him Prancer. I had not seen Prancer in a very long time, and I'm not sure I'd ever been to South Carolina, so I went. It was a beautiful trip, and I had a great time. The story ends there. Oh wait, did I mention I was almost killed by a demon-possessed, Fanta-hating, half conscious lunatic? Well okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but let me explain. Whilst enjoying my stay in the wonderful home of the University of South Carolina, I stayed at Prancer's house. He lives in a quaint four bedroom house with three roommates in a nice part of town, and his roommates are all pretty cool guys. One of the roommates, who I'll call Hulk for reasons you'll see later, is a particularly nice dude. However, as you may not know, the Hulk has diabetes. Now I have several friends with diabetes, and I have been warned that I myself might acquire it later in life, so I thought I was pretty knowledgeable on the subject. I was wrong. One morning while playing Halo, my game was interrupted when Prancer informed me that the Hulk wasn't responding. He had only checked once, so I wasn't worried, and just kind of laughed it off. After another twenty minutes, though, the Hulk was still unresponsive. Here's where things start to get interesting. Like the unselfish human that I am, I quit playing Halo and went to see what I could do (which I quickly realized was nothing). Upon entering the Hulk's room, I found him curled up peacefully on his futon. I thought it was pretty innocent until I realized that he might not be breathing. He was, though, don't jump to conclusions. Prancer informed me that he was definitely alive, but his blood sugar was very low. Now I'm no doctor, but I can't say I was wrong when I assumed that when diabetics have low blood sugar they get disoriented and weak. Disoriented? Yes. Weak? No. Very no. He was turning away from the drinks we were trying to give him, so we decided to do what any four college-aged, non-medically trained males would do: pin him down and pour Fanta down his throat until he drank some. There were several things wrong with our strategy. First off, it was a grape Fanta, and everybody knows that grape anything sucks. Second off, I was not aware that diabetes gives you superpowers. Three of us started to pin him down, while the fourth used one hand to hold him and the other to pour the Fanta. This worked flawlessly for about 3.7 seconds. Then the innocent little sleeper went rogue. In a split second he had literally thrown all four of us off of him, was standing up, and was moving towards me with his fist cocked back ready to knock me back into the 2nd dimension. I don't know what made him come towards me. Maybe it was cause I was the only one he didn't recognize. Maybe he didn't like my face. I don't know. He froze though, thankfully, and Prancer offered him some Fanta. Another useful fact is that the Hulk also sports a severe hatred for Fanta. He slammed the can out of Prancer's hand with amazing force, then instantly curled back into a ball and resumed his beauty sleep like nothing had happened. Long story short, we got him to drink a coke. (Side Note: I have NEVER in my LIFE seen someone drink a Coca Cola that fast without burping, crying, or vomiting.) He was fine and we all laughed it off in the end, but I have to say, it was quite an experience.
Fact of the Day: Sheep can survive for up to two weeks buried in snow drifts.
Shout out to Vance Benson.
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