Done With It

I am not quite sure what exactly spurred this feeling in me. I have been reading a lot of articles and watching documentaries lately. That might be it, but maybe it’s the fact I really can not bring myself to give a fuck about everyone’s cause or belief. I honestly don’t give a rat’s ass about my own, it’s all just a bunch of back ground noise anyway.

I was reading an article on The Blaze, it was about an eighth grade biracial kid who was the victim of a hate crime. Apparently, someone spray painted something racist on his house about not needing him on the football team. Turns out it was likely the boy’s mother, and it was covered up by the boy’s father. Police are still investigating to get the whole story.

Anyway, I read the comments below the article. It was crying about “liberal” this and “liberal” that, but nothing was said about the political leanings of anyone in the story. Secondly, it was a lot of outrage about “Whites” are portrayed, blamed, pigeon-holed in society, and simultaneously there was anger about using racism as a tool to get media attention. There were a few extreme comments…the only one shot down was an anti-Semitic comment. Not the comments about fat, white baby mommas, and skinny thug baby daddys. Not even the comments explaining how races should separate into their own nations.

As a reader of the article, who happens to be conservative & multiracial, I was shocked that no one noticed the hypocrisy the comments evoked. The mother and father of the boy were just shitty parents looking for attention and probably a few gifts, deplorable all on it’s on with no political connotations. The comments then used any tidbit to propel their own agendas whether they related to the article or not.

This was the time I decided…Fuck Politics…all of them…good & bad…Done with it!

Then over the course of maybe a few weeks, or months maybe, I see people become wildly irrational because they have a new pet project, or cause. It is as if their originally heart-felt energy was tainted by a need to feel justified. It does not matter which cause it is, but suddenly there is a hidden war waiting to explode tomorrow if we don’t all rally the troops and march off in raw emotionally fueled activism. If you do not get it 100% then you become the opposition, and other outcasts of the cause start rallying themselves. In an endless cycle of BULLSHIT!!!

The causes we might believe in are not a reason to forget common sense. I was always around people who talked about differences of opinion, not to change minds, but to open a way to understand and be understood. Once a girl cried uncontrollably because I said I believed that everyone is prone to a certain degree of prejudice. She insisted that she was not, and I said I understood but she wept as if I accused her of being a grand dragon of the KKK. I don’t believe everyone is a racist asshole, just that everyone has preconceptions that are not based on fact, but broad generalizations.

It is like nowadays you can’t be a person existing in the world. You have to fight for something. Whatever ethnic group you belong to is now the cause you fight for or else you are a traitor. Whatever sexuality category you may or may not fall into…well, you can’t just be comfy in your own skin you gotta fight for everyone else. Id you have crossed eyes and smell like cabbage? Well call up the carnies there is going to be a riot on the steps of congress. You have faith in anything different from me? You are an agent of the Devil, science, or god, and must be destroyed.

The whole “If it isn’t us then it is wrong” mentality.

I am a very cranky & pessimistic person, by and large. I also believe in a lot of various things most people do not, but I do not care if you believe them as well. I like talking about my beliefs…Hell I like talking about your beliefs. I DO NOT like hearing people spew hatred solely because the other team does it too. WAAAAAHHH!!

It was this mindset that barrages me daily that made me say…FUCK IT!…AAAANNNNDD….Done With It!

I watched documentaries about people opening themselves up to the universe and their inner truth. That they were their own boss. The people then proceeded to get naked when an elderly man with long white hair told them to, and did as he dictated for a week or more. Get naked and introduce yourselves to one another.

I love your energy. I hope that I am in some small way able to facilitate you reaching your own truth. 

To which, the other person replied, after a lengthy pause:

I like you. My vagina is tingling.

I believe this scholar has found her own truth, albeit in the most amazing way possible. There were other annoying things that had me yelling at the documentary, but they were mostly just people regurgitating sound bytes they have found in fortune cookies and song lyrics. The thing that made me angry was The White haired leader when told by a member of the retreat (his son-in-law we find out later) that he was worried about being a bad father replied with this gem:

Do not let yourself be weighed down by supposed obligations. 

Keep in mind, this is the grandfather of the “supposed obligation” and father of the “supposed obligation’s” mother. Seems a bit odd for a wise old nympho to say it is better to focus on finding yourself than accepting the effects of what you have done while finding yourself. This was a circus of narcissism, not merely ego that’s too light of a word. There were sensual massages that normally? ended in violent crying, and orgies that, after finished, everyone met and discussed what it meant to them.

It made me angry mainly because everyone on the documentary went on and on AND ON about how spiritual they wanted to be because it was the only way to gain understanding. To accomplish this they fucked, sucked, prodded , fingered and jerked each other to pretend nirvana as Hawaiian Gandalf sat erect in a corner.

It was as if everyone was neglecting to see that if they all were spirits prior to this and decided on a skin body vacation, then why dear lord why? do you try to remove yourself from the reality of day-to-day life? Spirits don’t have to work minimum wage jobs, but we do, because we thought as spirits “Hey let’s go on that new Earth ride the Milky Way just installed!” That’s like standing in line at the Spinning Tea Cup ride and then when you finally get on the ride you imagine you are standing in line.

That being said when it comes to doublespeak bullshit…Done With It!

Last but not least, I just think we could all just go back to being ourselves. No adjectives, titles, or pretense. We can be people and talk about stuff and not shut one another out with intricate and stupid social barriers!

I want to say, “Hey, my name’s Erik. I am mixed, conservative, kind of christian, but kind of more than that. I like to say inappropriate things, not because I believe it but because it tickles me. I don’t think I am better than you, but even if I did I won’t pretend I am perfect. I don’t care what you do with your genitals unless they are in direct contact with my own. Nice to meet you I would enjoy being friends and talking about all these amazing differences without it getting weird, or judging each other. Because I am done with all the posturing and bullshit…Done with it!! ….Sound good?”

Someone just got their mind blown!

Someone just got their mind blown!



Pet Peeves: Verbose Elitist Gurus

Verbose: using or expressed in more words than are needed.

Elitist:  A person who believes that they are superior to others (and thus deserve favored status) because of their intellect, social status, wealth, or other factors. 

Guru: an influential teacher or popular expert.

Only one of these things separately pisses me off regularly…elitists. Hate them, and oddly, I feel superior to them because they are snobs. Worse, most are social predators waiting to pounce on anyone they mildly disagree with on any topic. The combination of the other two words to the equation creates an unbearable ass-hat who while educated & expressive loses any credibility as a source of guidance due to their second anus attached to their jaw.

The internet has provided a fertile breeding ground for these pests. In addition to making it more socially acceptable to “dip your toes in the water” of ass-hattery. These people were internet trolls before there was an internet. They flamed casual acquaintances for sport rather than sharing of knowledge. Now they are this disease that spreads through our lives unhindered. This entire blog was triggered by a post a friend shared, but the issue itself was crawling under my skin for some time prior to this.

The post itself was fairly simple. It was the authors disdain for people sharing quotes constantly on social media, especially it seemed, if the original message was a translation. Mainly due to the fact that translations from modern languages lose meaning, and the older the quote being translated the greater the loss. Plus, the message seemed to be that we can all share knowledge we discover on our own paths in life.

I agree!!! 

The thing that made me angry was the authors replies to people who disagreed with him. He spent most times mockingly calling out anyone who disagreed with him. Mocking their beliefs, their intellect, and the general usefulness of their existence. This from an author who from what i found (via FB stalking) to have many good points, and a seemingly decent knowledge base. It pissed me off mainly because for all the bluster & superiority of tone in his replies…all i saw between the lines was pettiness & monumental, yet fragile ego.


I hate people with the life coach mentality who can’t use it to COACH!!! Any teacher will tell you that you aim to address the audience you are speaking to… meaning that if you are talking to 4 year olds about life lessons, those lessons will be wildly less complex than if you were speaking to a group of twenty-somethings. This is where the verbose part comes into play. You can explain things nonstop, but if you are putting expert level knowledge out there for a novice…no learning will happen. The most important lesson I learned in my very limited college experience is this…be concise. Don’t pile words up like dirty clothes on your clean outfit otherwise the whole things stinks.

I mean I can converse all day long about nonsense, but I tell stories which require more detail than driving instructions for example.

The guru part is a bad deal when combined with the elitist mindset too. Mainly because you have someone who is using their slightly larger amount of knowledge as a way to lord it over other people. You will see people guru-ing their ass off for adoration & status. These are the people who make a point then pause dramatically & smile smugly at blowing people’s mind with their Gandalf-like wisdom. The fact remains that you can be a bar stool Rumi, but minutes later you are going home to you sad life alone wondering why no one appreciates your giant alien overlord brain pulsating your giant skull like a soft snake egg. It’s because you aren’t teaching anyone anything other than to make better conversation partner choices when drinking.

This type of guru offers no real knowledge…they speak to the masses to display their greatness, which in context looks very pathetic & sad. This is why they are so verbose, or talkative about their wide expanse of information…the silence between their posturing reveals they are one note songs, one-dimensional creations, and in fact are less advanced in a broad sense than the people they visualize themselves superior to.


Oh no!!! Seriously though, I have my moments feeling superior to people too. We all do. The thing is most people do not make it into a daily ritual, or a hobby. I like to think everyone I know is intelligent in one way, or another. I want to hear them spout off for long periods on the stuff they like…and I will pay them back with my own rambling. I think we get into problems when we think other people are inferior to us.

Like I said earlier, I think the internet is a breeding ground for this behavior. I can tell you for a fact probably 80% of my Facebook friends probably wouldn’t be friends with me if we only met online. Think about your friends & ask yourself the same question. If you are that judgmental on a site to share silly quotes, pictures, and tell people everything you did today, who are you really? Am I a know-it-all fuckbag who gets upset & yells at people for not being enlightened like me?

I would say no, but dammit I am tired of seeing people post about coffee every damned morning…but that is another blog.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.



Phobia of the Week: Photo-bombing Life

Photobomb a girl getting her picture with a taco & packet of hot sauce?...Don't mind if I do!!!

Photo-bomb a girl getting her picture with a taco & packet of hot sauce?…Don’t mind if I do!!!

Yeah, that’s me…being drunk & distracting. One of the things I never realized I enjoyed is the art of Photo-bombing. Just jumping into frame seconds before that *click* of the camera. I have a collection of photos like this stored on my computer, and I even have a friend who photographed me just posing against a wall…in all my photo-bombing glory. Truth be told I photo-bombed a group of older relatives taking pictures at my mother’s memorial gathering. I haven’t seen that picture, but I imagine it is one of the only mourning photo-bombs in history….I made that happen!

The thing I fear is the mingling of the photo-bomb with my regular life, and vice versa. It doesn’t make sense at first, but after fifteen minutes looking through pictures I had the thought occur to me. Maybe the scariest thing is photo-bombing life!

I have noticed lately that I cannot seem to make lasting connections with people, or people I have long-standing connections with sort of fading in & out. As if for a moment I am popping into the frame of their life a split second before a memory is created. As if I were temp hired for contract work. It is an odd thought to have…frightful really….realizing you are either facilitating a moment to happen for a brief moment, or you are marking a small point in your time where you existed outside yourself in some social context.

Do I exist for another purpose other than dropping bits of advice, an off-color joke, or offering a sympathetic ear for an afternoon? Because that is what photo-bombing life is when you boil it down…you are a plot device in life. You aren’t actively creating the moments…you might be present, but you are an extra in a crowd scene. How terribly possible is this? The fact that it seems to me that it is all too easy to exist this way. It is the soul equivalent of not leaving a carbon footprint…you aren’t really living.

I suppose I noticed this from seeing so many people darting back & forth trying to do this thing, or that….As if completing this mental checklist of things was somehow actually living. It isn’t….not really. It is a damned good facsimile of a life, but not a life. It is just people wandering around trying to build their resumes for what the assume life is. You can’t get ahead by avoiding the messy parts of life.

Here is an example: I recently went to a tattoo shop on Friday the 13th for a special tattoo event the shop holds nearly every Friday the 13th. If I would’ve stood in line waiting to just get my tattoo, and left the shop with the only story being an armful of ink, it would’ve just been me photo-bombing life. Be there did that…check! Instead, I stood in line next to a guy who asked what tattoo I was getting.  I told him I was getting a number 13 & a rose outline…in honor of my mother whom I lost a few months ago & my recent acceptance of bad luck coursing through my life. He then shared with me that he recently lost his brother, and was getting his portrait tattooed on his rib cage the following week. We talked about how our loved ones died, talked about the bonds we shared with them, our devastation, and also how things had changed since they were gone. We talked about shit! We weren’t there to share feelings, but we did. It was the most open I had been about the death since it happened. We didn’t exchange numbers, or even first names for that matter, but we bonded in a tiny moment. If we were photo-bombing life we would’ve just said,” Tattoo for dead relative!” “Cool! Me too!!”

The difference between photo-bombing life & living life is the fact that I will remember that time for years to come. Whereas, there are people I see regularly who will probably be fuzzy distorted memories because they choose to photo-bomb because it is easier than dealing with real shit & the unpleasant things that involve truly living.

I guess I fear it because you have to make sure you aren’t just photo-bombing people who mean something to you, or who could potentially mean something to you, all for the sake of being easier. You have a lot on your plate, but life is a scary fucking buffet…alotta food & alotta platesDig In!!!!


Buzzkill In Action: Comeback!!!

I was made fun of so much in my life. So as karma would have it I do the same thing now. Yes it is true two wrongs don’t make a right, but damn it is fun shutting someone down. Here are some new ones & maybe some old ones if i can think of any. ****Disclaimer: I am not this judgmental in reality…I just go for the joke as soon as I can think it. Apologies if you are offended. ******

Guy: Imma be sittin on 20’s when i get off!

Me: Is that some sort of new slang for cocks?


Me: Why are you playing music from your phone & why is it stuffed in your bra?

Girl: So I can hear it.

Me: Well you look like an anorexic robocop…..hmmm that explains the forehead size too!

Girl: F- you!

Me: You can’t get mad! That’s not one, but two robocop jokes at once!!!


Your feet are so tiny they qualify as hooves.


Ohhh! New haircut…girl, you look like a young Cab Calloway!

Yeah... like this only with a vagina.

Yeah… like this only with a vagina.


She gained 50lbs from quitting cigarettes? Come on! She looks like ate Adele! She looks as if she wants to set fire to the rain….or some smores.


Me: He is tiny…like a lil black

Person: Like he has gold at the end of the rainbow.

Me: You know what is at the end of his rainbow?

Person: No, what?

Me: Welfare office.


Look I am a big dude…front boobs, back boobs, neck boobs, but you look like your smuggling an udder under your face.


I didn’t know they made tight jeans for people with only one butt cheek worth of meat.


My daughter: Poop pants! Poop pants! Poop pants!………..*infinity*…

Me: If you say ‘poop pants’ one more time I will poop my own pants then beat you in the head with them until you pass out & poop your own pants.

My daughter: DAD!!!

Me: Sounds pretty shitty doesn’t it?….hehe…pun



If your arms are guns they are flare guns…all flash no bang!

If your arms are guns they are Cap guns…only suitable for children!

If your arms are guns then they are antiques.

If your arms are guns then you’re shooting blanks.


*an oldie but a goodie*

It’s always “I am Persian this! I am Persian that”! One day everyone’s gonna realize you are all just dirty ass white people…they live in the desert! Everything is dirty there! Maybe if you all could find an oasis to bathe in you’d know by now.


*one at myself*

My Dad is black and my Mom is a ginger….apparently they had a science experiment to see if it was possible to create a soulless creature that was treated as half a person.


Futility In Hope…or Vice Versa

why is this cat trying to drink a urine sample?

why is this cat trying to drink a urine sample?

I am a pessimist. Straight forward as that. It guides my choices & leads my doctor to prescribe me tasty meds. Most situations are glass half empty as the cat above can attest to. Where did the hope go to? Probably the same place my belief in the fairness of life, or the belief in Santa Claus went. So where is it?

I think it is a very important lesson to focus on futility. People like to say that confidence is important. Which it is, but it is implied (or out right said) that being a pessimist is character flaw. It isn’t…it is just pragmatic to assume failure is in the cards.

I approach an interview for a new job like someone putting their hand in a rat trap.  I know its gonna end badly, possibly with me screaming a cuss word loudly a few moments after.

I approach dating as if the other persons soul mate will be serving us, and shove their tongue down my dates throat. whisking them away to parts unknown to proceed with a long, healthy & happy relationship. Hilarious I know, but these thoughts are in my head nearly the entire time.

The thing is no one views this as an advantage. It can be as long as you accept the fact that if there can be a certain amount of futility in being hopeful, then the opposite must hold some grain of truth. There is hope within futility.  There is a power.

I may assume I won’t get a job I have applied for, but it makes me research the company, evaluate my skills more in-depth, and makes me acutely aware of what I am doing during the interview. It makes me hyper aware, and I have anticipated what could go wrong in many various ways. So much so that when the worse happens I feel it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Just shrug & move forward.

In the dating scenario, it keeps me from being a cocky asshole…there is plenty of time to be hated for my other flaws. It does basically the same thing though. It makes me try to avoid making those stupid mistakes. I will make mistakes like turning the water in the bathroom on too much and splashing a large wet spot on the front of my pants, or something equally embarrassing. It will make me calm down that part of myself that wants to jump around the person like an excited puppy. It also helps if I don’t get another date with that person…I usually assume they have fallen madly in fuck with the lead singer of some band that wears tight jeans. Just shrug & move forward.

Does it mean I have a crappy job? Yes, just like 99% of the entire world. Does it mean I am aware of loneliness? Of course, I am human in that way. I may have moments where I feel defeated & deflated, but I can be assured that something positive will come of it. Be it learning lessons about myself through failures, or just succeeding when I thought I would fail. Plus, it beats the hell out of being a chipper, smiling soccer mom all the damned time. No one likes chipper, except other chipper people. It takes too much effort to smile in the face of adversity, and its much more satisfying to tell adversity to fuck off.

Just remember it isn’t futility that is negative it is what you do with that feeling. If you quit it is the most negative thing you can ever do. If you feel all is futile, yet you persist that is the most potentially life changing choice you can make. Every innovation, accomplishment, etc. comes from a huge pile of failure until you get it right.

So go on…be pessimistic & persistent…it is the only hope we have.


Listen To Your……

Listen to your heart
when he’s calling for you.
Listen to your heart
there’s nothing else you can do.
I don’t know where you’re going
and I don’t know why,
but listen to your heart
before you tell him goodbye. -Roxette


You know what? Fuck Roxette! Every time I listen to my heart someone tells me to listen to my head. Every time I listen to my head someone says to listen to my stomach. Every time I listen to my stomach I eat cookies, cakes and other assorted delightful goodies….then I start listening to man-boobs flapping in the wind. The basic truth is this never listen to any individualized body parts. It isn’t productive in the long run. Plus, if your hear that many voices from your body you need medication, and possibly a quiet stay in a puffy room.

There is a large push to get people to be in touch with themselves. This is a great thing! The bad thing is each school of thought tells you different areas to listen to…very confusing. Although if you are a diverse student such as myself (call bullshit!) you have learned it isn’t about listening to one extremity or the other. Rather it is listening to the chorus of advice from the entire group at once. Of course, you are left with a huge list of angry opinions…much like containing a Jerry Springer audience in your body & mind. Listen to them for a bit then do this……Whatever the hell you want!!!! 

It doesn’t matter what the situation, your heart is wrong just as often as your head. Even when it is a wrong choice, the heart will make you feel fluttery & flowery about making the choice that was right for you; meanwhile, the head will rationalize why the wrong choice it made was the only logical choice available. So, if you are going to fuck up anyway, why take time out of your busy, hot mess life to worry about it? Don’t it isn’t worth the frustration & internal conflict.

Random Rant starting in 5…4…3…2…

Either way, at some point you will end up in a dark alley snogging with a questionable piece of ass, wondering whether it is your piss or theirs that is staining your new khaki pants. Why? Because at every time of life from age 10 & up your genitals will usurp control of your heart, brain, tongue, fingers, and wallet. If my penis had a Twitter I wouldn’t subscribe. He has his own opinions on life…that violently diverge from what i consider acceptable. If you had a friend who had the same sexual reaction to pornography as they did a slight breeze, chances are you would kind of cool off on that friendship too. But…don’t end the friendship because I’ll be damned if old friend genitalia doesn’t break up the monotony of life. I am just saying don’t list them as your emergency contact.

End Rant

Where was I? Sorry, I am passionate about phallic mind control. Anyway, just live & let live. If you do this chances are you won’t have to listen to your head, heart, genitals, or any other body part…they will learn to work in unison. That’s the big bad lesson of the blog.

Now that we have settled that…it is important to remember if anyone gives you advice that begins with, “You should just follow your….” they aren’t giving advice they are telling you what they think about your choices thus far. like so:

Listen to your heart means “You are gonna do whatever the fuck you want to do…so quit asking…lets talk about something other than you poor life decisions.”

Listen to your head means “I can’t say how I feel because you will get angry, but I think you are smart enough to figure out you fucked up.”

Listen to your parents means “You have fucked up so much you need to rewind your life to childhood to relearn the core concepts of being an adult.”

Listen to your gut means “The situation is gonna end badly either way so make a choice…quick before the cops get here.”

Listen to your instincts means “No matter what you do it is drama & hopefully your survival instincts will kick in soon enough that you won’t have a Charlie Sheen style breakdown.”

Listen to your genitals means “I want to fuck if you could shut up and focus on pleasuring me!”

I think we have learned a lot today. Let’s recap:

  1. Do what you want…every choice has a 50/50 chance of being wrong.
  2. Genitals are evil, and should be ignored unless it is situationally while drunk, kissing, or an underwear commercial is on.
  3. Your friend’s advice is normally always a secret code to explain why you’re a fuck up, but they still love you.
  4. I need to type something to post a picture on the blog preview…like knife fight
What a cute accidental find...I impress myself.

What a cute accidental find…I impress myself.

Phobia of the Week: My Childhood Didn’t Exist

I was planning a poor man’s Easter celebration with my daughter today. I thought of doing an Easter basket, but I realized it would be an entire day of me sneakng through her basket to steal her Reese’s. I am greedy as f&*k. I have come to understand & enjoy this about myself, it’s delicious. Although, I attempt to curb this behavior a bit. So, I started thinking of cool things from my childhood that I did with my mom for holidays, etc. I got the idea to make cupcakes in sugar ice cream cones.

It is the universal opposite of the Ice cream cake.

It is the universal opposite of the Ice cream cake.

So, I got to texting about my awesome idea. It went a little like this…..

I decided to make ice cream cone cupcakes tomorrow for Easter!!

What are ice cream cone cupcakes…never heard of them..

Lol…you know the cake batter in the ice cream cones…

Nope…never heard of them

Are you f&*king joking?

This wasn’t the real conversation of course, because the real conversation went on for much longer. I felt a sense of sadness for even one child growing up without knowing the delight of these delicacies. So, as a warrior…righting the wrongs of an unjust world, I vowed that I would again hold off my greedy nature and…gasp…share them. If for no other reason than I felt guided by the hand of Elmer, head of the Keebler elves, himself.

After work was over, I headed to the grocery store to get ingredients, and also food because the shelves are getting thin while I am ironically not. I was there for a few minutes before I ran into another friend. I told her the sad story of the ice cream cone cupcake deprived child (now adult)….Her response? “What are those? I never had them either.” This was when the seeds of terror began to sprout & gain purchase in the soil of my paranoia. (read that phrase a couple of times I am proud of it)

I mean talking to two people who had never tasted, or heard of a vivid childhood memory bothered me quite a bit. Especially since one of them told me that I could have dreamed it as a child, and never realized it was just a dream! Oh sweet buttery savior! What if they were right!?!? I have had dreams of conversations, and events that I realized later were just hyper-realistic dreams. What if the hybrid cupcakes were the result of sleeping pills & too much taco bell disrupting my sleeping brain?

I was quickly reassured when my cousin, oddly, was also at the grocery store. She lived across the street from me for twenty years, so she would validate my growing fear of cupcake related mental illness. She backed me up, and relieved, we both went through the store to get ingredients to make them since our children had no idea about the cupcakes either. So tomorrow we see the results of baking induced enlightenment!


I’m still left with the growing fear that I may have made up large parts of my childhood …memories that do not exist! What if my stories about my first dog aren’t real? Maybe my mom just put on a strong face, and gazed in sadness as I told humorous stories of my puppy refusing to eat soup without crackers in it. Poor delusional bastard that I was.

I have compiled a short list of things that might not have happened to me, but I think happened…or did they? God! I am so confused right now!!

  • I dislike being too close to horses because the first time I sat on one, at my uncle’s house, I fell off. Right into the dirt in front of the collected members of my extended family. It was due to a loose saddle, or the fact I was chubby & froze like a corpse just tilted ever so slowly to the left until gravity had no choice. She slammed my tubby ass chest first into the ground. I could have been an equestrian dammit! Thanks fake memories!!
  • Feeding baby lizards in the sewer drain sticks. So that way they would grow into large angry alligators. Until, that is, I got yelled at for putting too much garbage into the sewer. If this actually happened would I be afraid of alligators like everyone else? Rather than muttering to myself at the zoo alligator being a, “majestic big bastard!”?
  • I got an autographed copy of president Reagan‘s picture. What if the president never personally read my letter that I wrote in elementary school? It would have altered the entire political landscape! 
  • I came across an old bookstore, where I stole a book. Later, at school while being chased by bullies, I hide in the attic. When I began to read this book I slowly became transported into that world. There were rock giants, a horse named Artex, and a luck dragon named FalcorThis could also be “The Neverending Story“, but how will I ever know for sure?!

So, I am now super close to a mental break down! Thanks ice cream cone cupcakes, if that is your real name!