A Disturbing Post

I walked into my living room today to find a shocking scene. This seen was so shocking that I felt at lest a couple volts of energy as I entered the room. In my very own living room was a cult-meeting-thing. That’s right, a cult.

And this was no ordinary cult. From my limited knowledge of cults I found this one to be quite different. Different, as in happy. They called themselves The Brotherhood of Happiness.

Apparently during my tight work schedule they found my house a free environment to “cult.” (Verb?) But upon arrival to my living room, I was thoroughly glared at. So I was awkwardly forced to leave.

I soon developed a plan, however, to gain entrance into the cult to find a way to disassemble it from the inside. Unfortunately, my plan failed.

I was soon escorted by the gentleman(who was wearing the same shirt as me) in the back of the room to another place out of the way, which turned out to be my bathroom.

So, if you want to get together at my place any Thursday morning between 11:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m., you might want to put that plan on hold.

Pita Chip Review

From the makers of propane, dehydrated water, and carbon monoxide comes a brand new tasteless, odorless, and fat-free product!

The product is Pita Chips. Originally designed by NASA (National Association of Silly Acronyms), this product is perfect for the person without the sense of smell in your life. With it’s rich creamy baked-in flavor-lacking-ness, it’s as if you’re eating a stale, unsalted saltine cracker.

And with a name like “Simply Naked” how can it not sell? I mean, what a perfect name for something going into your mouth to be digested.

And it’s owned by none other than our very own Stacy! I don’t know about you, but I believe that it is the most fitting name for a pita chip. I’m sure there was an incredibly long meeting sorting out the unfitting names for a pita chip like: Sam, Bill, George, Joe, Ned, Bertha, Spot, Lucky, and Bob, but doesn’t Stacy just fit?

And who can forget the long, drawn out court battle for the use of the name. I actually believed the representatives from new line of women’s lotions would have been awarded the name, but there must have just been a good crew on the legal team.

A message to all you stockholders and other others thinking to buy-in! I have just received a tip that Stacy is planning to release a new product expected to hit the market sometime soon. The new product is “canned bananas.” So if you have the capitol buy more stocks, or as Stacy likes to call them, “stockings.” If you don’t have the capitol, raise some.
Well, that concludes my review of the not-so-new, not-so-controversial, and not-so-widely-heard-of product. I give it 2 87/1000 of 5 stars.

If you are interested in other products with a female touch, after eating delicious pita chips clean your face with Clarissa napkins.

Growing Up.

Like a moth guarding its Olympic flame I waited, and waited and waited. When finally I realized the sad truth, TINKIE WINKIE WASN’T COMING!

All I wanted for my fourth birthday was to see HIM. I was devastated! I didn’t eat (for a whole 10 minutes). I didn’t sleep (I closed my eyes and when I opened them it was morning). But more importantly I was sick for reasons the doctors couldn’t explain.

And it started out as a shudder every time I saw the PBS logo. But it slowly developed into a scream, and worse, seizures.

Until one day when I broke the television, my parents had decided that enough was absolutely enough. They got me some psychiatric assistance.

They told me I was going to the doctor as we stepped into our old, white mini-van. I didn’t put up much of a fight to leave, seeing as I was in the middle of a cold, spiraling depression.

On the drive there, I remember spotting an almost purplish cloud, which appeared to be in the shaped of someone in his or her pajamas, and with a goofy looking swirly stick on their head.

At the most dark, strange, and ominous doctor’s office I had ever seen, (which isn’t saying too much keeping in mind that I was four at the time) emerged from the shadows a rather sketchy looking figure with a very distinct mustache. He was referred to by my parents and himself only as Toboggans.

After talking with my parent for a short while, he approached me. He asked my name, how old I was, and how my day went. He used a lot of words I didn’t understand, but I only stared off into space.

I remember his exact words, they still taste horrible whenever I shoot them from my lips. “Your son is a very strange boy.”

My mother collapsed in despair, and my father now became the one staring off into space. For they knew I had a very unusual future in store for me, and it was too much for them to take. So they didn’t.

They dropped me in a basket and dropped that basket on the doorstep of a computer lab where I spent my childhood learning the ways of humor blogging.

My Breakfast.

I had the biggest bowl of porridge today. It all started when I was deciding what to eat for breakfast. Cocoa puffs? Na, too crazy, frosted flakes?? Too snowy.

When it hit me like a bolt of lightning. Why don’t I have porridge? It was a genius idea. So, I opened a packet, added water, and put in the microwave for 45 seconds.

Those forty-five seconds seemed like hours as I cautiously watched the bowl spin round and round, guarding my prized bowl of breakfast. Then began the countdown. 10…9…8…7 I could feel my heart bounce up to my throat and back down again with every passing second, even my breathing seemed to be coordinated with the timer on the microwave.

6…5…4…3… I had stopped breathing altogether. I just couldn’t take the pressure of the wait, but somehow I forced myself to manage.

2…1…BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! I was so startled it was finally over that I nearly forgot to take out my breakfast.

As I set the table, each passing moment was growing in excitement for me. Orange juice? Check. Napkin? Check. Spork? Double-check. As I slowly and carefully placed the steaming bowl of oats and meals down on the special pot holder I set up for it I could feel the aroma singeing my nose hairs and heading straight for the pleasure center of my brain.

THIS WAS GOING TO BE GOOD!

And it was, until about 2:45, when I started to regret ever eating that piping hot, scrumptious bowl of goodness.

But as I stared at my shoes in my special place with four walls, and ironically, a bowl, I decided the porridge was well worth any small discomfort.

But the question still remains, what will I have for
lunch……………………….?