A closed mouth gathers no feet.

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.