Thursday, April 28

Mom Knows Best

Hey my peeps. 


So, I'm back by popular (one person's) demand. Yes, I'll admit, I was temporarily distracted by my nighttime job of vigilante crime-fighting in the insidious streets of Massachusetts...



You understand, though. Being the hero can be harsh. 

Anyhoo, I am proud to say that I have a whole new outlook on this blogging business. I have something important to say to y'all, straight from the bottom of my rather large and generous heart. I'm gonna stick to it this time and keep cranking out those useless life experiences for you, all for the small price of nothing. Sound good? Good like gingerbread? 

...at least I think that's what I meant to say. It might just be the Dr. Pepper talking. That smooth, exquisite, luscious, delectably foxy soda.... ahem.  I may have had a sip earlier today. I don't know when my father's going to learn that supplying me with delicious forms of caffeine is not a good idea. 

But man, do I covet that Dr. Pepper. My mom never let me drink soda growing up, so naturally I've learned to cherish every single drop that comes into my possession. In hindsight, there was probably something to this rule. My mom says that in the end, she's always right. 

Also, I handle caffeine rather poorly. 

You see, caffeine poisoning is very serious in some individuals. Some people just can't handle their Pepsi. I know I am susceptible to this affliction. I will not try to deny it. I cannot break free of it, however. I can only show you what it looks like to witness this terrible spectacle, and hope that you don't travel down the same barren road I did.




The first stage. You are aware of the presence of the bottle. It's sitting there, begging to be swigged. The color is beautiful. The seal of the cap so delicately unbroken. Your twitching limbs, flopping surreptitiously in the direction of the sweet elixir, drawing you closer with every second, like iron fillings to a magnet. The fleeting glances. 

Often, I willing put myself in this risky position because of the undeniable splendor of the bottle of Mega Voluptuous Caffeine Suckerpunch or whatever I happen to stumble upon. 



But WAIT! At this point I remember my mother's dire message... 

YOU CANNOT HAVE THAT SODA.

...do I really have it in me to deny that one simple statement, spoken by the most important, all-powerful person in my life?



The uncertainty grows within like a festering disease. That disease slowly transforms into a looming fear. The consequences. The repercussions. Punishment. If I should be caught. What will happen to me? I may never see the softly glowing silhouette of a sweet bottle of Coca-Cola again...


Then my eyes fall on the bottle once more. Can't deny it. There it is. In all its glory. 

IN. ALL. ITS. SUMPTUOUS. GLORY.




Then. It comes down to this. The moment of truth. The final showdown between what I desire most and what I know in my heart to be right. 




This outcome seems to be the most common. The extreme desire for fructose-injected caffeine-water always wins out against my mother's will. What's a girl to do?  


Subsequently, which is one of my favorite words, the caffeine does not take effect. It seems as though it has an opposite effect on me. I usually experience a sort of energy leakage after the consumption of a bottle/can of soda. I'm not sure if my mother ever learned to recognize this caffeine low, but it feels like it must've been pretty obvious after a while.




In any case, the unavoidable caffeine burst-o-power strikes about three to six hours late in my case. And it lasts for a while. Quite a while.




It's probably pretty terrifying. It's too bad I can't see my reaction to one of my own caffeine rampages. Too bad I can't really focus on one thing long enough to see anyone else's reaction, either. 


I've noticed that my feet twitch and bounce a lot, as my caffeine highs are a little more lucid now than they were during my earlier childhood. Also, I tend to not talk quite right. And my attention span shortens to about five seconds. 


All I know is that there's probably a very good reason my mom forbid my caffeine consumption as a child.




Mom knows best.



Friday, April 1

I don't know why I laughed at that...

I've been feeling this creeping guilt deep in my impressive ab-encrusted gut because I didn't keep true to my personal blogging promise to post at least once a week. How can I ever hope to built a two hundred-foot solid gold statue of myself riding a moose in the middle of Canada if I can't even write a stupid blog post at least once a week??


What a disgrace.


So anyway, my friend Annie told me some wonderful anti-jokes the other day, and I thought I'd share some of my favorites with you, since of course it is Fish Day in France.


***


Q: What's worse than finding a worm in your apple? 
A: The Holocaust.


...


Q: Why did the black man buy 3 boxes of condoms? 
A: Because he practices safe sex and they were on sale.


...

Horse walks into a bar. 
Bartender says, "Hey, buddy, why the long face?" 
Horse says, "My wife is dying of terminal cancer."


...


Knock Knock.
Who's there?
The police, your entire family died in a car accident.


...


Q: What did one lawyer say to the other lawyer?
A: We are both lawyers.


...


Q: How do you get a clown off of a swing?
A: You hit him with an ax.


***


I don't want to overwhelm you with too many tasteless attempts at humor in one post. There's about six too many here.


It was in the very least amusing to see the range of reactions these jokes get. My friends seem to appreciate them, seeing as we start to do that awkward silent laughing if one of these bad boys is delivered correctly in the right situation. 


My mom, on the other hand, just sort of doesn't say anything after I tell one...


But anyway. I digress. Go home. Yoke's on you.