Plain, old $%&*@#!!! mad
Tuesday, April 28th, 2009For the second time in a row…
For the second day in a row…
I wrote a lengthy (and no doubt genius) post and hit ‘save’ and then it disappeared into the ethers.
The first was about Burmese pythons taking over the world.
And tonight’s was about this ridiculous writing contest where I really need the prize money, but choke in disgust on the topic (“Roses on the windshield – Barftastic stories of smooshy love and stuff.”)
And it’s late.
And tomorrow I fly across the state and hopefully don’t contract swine flu.
A word to all travelers with fluish symptoms with plans to board planes in Washington state tomorrow (the Typhoid Marys, if you will): If you infect me with your freaky mutated multi-animal gened flu bug, and I get it, and I die, I will haunt your @ss into the grave. And then I’ll haunt your ancestors.
Why not? I’m dead. I have nothing better to do.
Jacob Marley will have nothing on me.
I’ll be out there with the chains and the moaning and the midnight shrieks and the door slamming and the super-scary ‘dining room chairs stacked up in a pyramid on top of the table’ trick. That’s some spooky sh*t. It will not be good for your stress level.
Remember that movie with Michelle Pfieffer? I’ll run your bathtub and overflow it and show up in it all seaweed-y and angry and scary as hell floating in the water. And I’ll write on your steamed-up mirror. Stuff like “Oink. Oink.” and “You suck!”
You like that?
No?
I didn’t think so.
So keep your freaky germs to yourself.
You’ve been warned…


Did someone change the ratio on me while I wasn’t looking?






