Hello Tablets. Honestly, how have you people
gotten along without me? Have you forgotten how to laugh? It's been a solid month and a half since I wrote the last post, and I
apologize. I've gotten distracted, but I have a
life too so back the hell off. Also, I'm cripplingly afraid of commitment,
and yes that even reaches into my online life. I don't like
expectations, and deadlines terrify me. Moving on, a lot's happened since
September 22nd, most importantly Halloween, which is easily my least favorite
holiday by far. Why, you ask? Luckily for you I just happen to have
a list of why Halloween sucks:
1) I am, at heart, a
complete and total fucking pansy. I saw The Ring once when I was 13 and have cried
nightly since then. Of course when I say I "saw" the movie, I
mean watched it through squinted eyes behind a quilt with covered ears curled
up in a ball behind the lay-z-boy. And I've never looked back. I
understand that "scary movies" are supposed to scare you. What
I don't understand is why the HELL you want to be scared in the first place??
What wires are crossed in your brain that makes you want to trick
yourself into the same state of mind that makes you involuntarily pee, scream,
and cry? I don't get it, and I have absolutely zero problem admitting
that. Do I want to go see Paranormal Activity 4? Do I want to go
through the haunted trail? No. Very no. I have the terror
threshold of a paranoid schizophrenic and the emotional stability of a toddler.
You have fun though.
2) When the shit did
Halloween become a weeklong thing?
I mean this is an ordeal now.
When we were kids it used to last about two and a half hours then it was
done, and we couldn't have been happier. Now you plan more for Halloween
than you do for your thesis paper, and probably have about the same number of
references. There is no possible way I can be held responsible for the
quality and originality of my seventh costume. The first night out I'll be in legitimately thought-out and
creative attire, like a homemade transformer costume that actually transforms
into a fully functional cement truck, but by the last night I'm usually going
as a guy that is mind-blown that people are still even conscious at this point.
I mean shit guys, even God rested on the seventh day.
3) It’s way to effing
cold. Not to be even more of a bitch, but the temperature being eleven
degrees really puts a damper on my evening. Especially when I'm dressed
in my slutty judge outfit. Don't get me wrong, I love to have a good
time, but I also enjoy feeling in my extremities and the absence of icicles on
my eyelids. Next year I'm just going to go as an Eskimo for all seven
nights.
Speaking of cold, I never
officially got out all my thoughts about the fall/winter. Throughout the
past couple months I've been seeing an incessant amount of posts online about
how ready everyone is for the colder seasons, and honestly I agreed with them
at the beginning. You're always ready for the next season, at least
until it hits, then you want the old one back, but that's just because you're
an ungrateful twerp that's impossible to satisfy. Anyway, the main
problem I have with the cold weather is.... well, the cold part of it. To
be clear, I love cold weather, but only at certain times, like
between the hours of 11am and 8pm. I'm rarely happier when it's chilly
outside during the day and I can wear jeans and a jackets, roll the windows
down and pump the heat in the car. What I'm not okay with is the morning
cold. It makes it incredibly hard
to get out of bed in the morning, and damn near impossible to get out of
the shower. How am I supposed to get back into the frigid air when I'm currently
standing motionless and sleepy while thousands of tiny little warm angels
massage my back? I mean I get dangerously close to comatose when I'm in that
zombie position with my eyes closed, chin on chest, with hot water hitting my
back, and the only reason I'll move is to turn the heat up because I've used
nearly all the hot water for the entire house. And it doesn't help that
for the first couple weeks it was literally warmer in the refrigerator than it
was in the rest of the house.
I've been having some extremely
quirky dreams recently, and to no surprise, most of them have been about bacon.
A week or two ago I had one where I was diagnosed with serious heart
problems, and was told I could never eat bacon again. Earth-shattering to
say the least. You’d think that'd
be pitiful enough for one dream, but it didn’t stop there. It ended with me on the kitchen floor
cuddling with a bag of bacon bits singing "It must've been love". Then,
last night, I had another one where I dreamt that a pig was elected to be the
President of the United States, and that I was arrested because I assassinated
him in an attempt to get bacon. Just out of curiosity, at what point do I
go see a therapist?
Have you ever gotten really busy
working or something and not been able to check your phone, then you finally do
and have a ton of texts/calls/etc? As shallow as it is, that's one of the
greatest feelings ever. The worst is when you’re on a plane, you finally
land after a long flight, and turn on your phone and don't get a single
notification. Talk about bankrupting your self worth. That's why
every time I travel, right before the flight takes off I send out twenty or so
texts, tweets, and everything else. Then when I land I make sure my
phone's on loud and let the sounds of my popularity ring out for the whole
plane to hear as I sheepishly shrug at people in a fake air of embarrassment.
Pathetic? Maybe (definitely), but nobody gets hurt and I get the
sense of long-lasting fulfillment that really keeps me going.
Fact of the Day: When glass
breaks, the cracks move at speeds up to 3,000 miles per hour.
Shout out to Allison Renth.
