The How To Have Fun From Home Files - Woooow itchy

We’ve all been there. You didn’t mean to, but you had a big night. It was Saturday night after all, or perhaps even a Tuesday night for the more crazy adventurous types among us (tee-hee). And you were feeling a little storm footed. A little glance hearted. A little lascivious even. A tad concupiscent. A smudge libidinous. Two parts haunch marked. And you think, “I know, I’ll go for a simple gentle walk and try to walk it off”. What could go wrong? You broke a leg once playing football as a kid, and when you told the coach “I’m hurt boss” he said “walk it off kid” and nothing went wrong after that. You’ve even recently stopped limping. What could wrong now?

So you’re on your walk. And you spot a bar. Well more like a tavern. Possibly even a watering hole. Well I think we all know what happens. You’re a little ganger jostled. You’re tiffingly lilliputian. You’re infinitesimally knot fugged. You think, “just one drink, what could go wrong?” after all you only ever drank one glass of Draino on a dare, and two fifths of your intestines were recovered and sewed back on. They were supposed to be sewed back “in” but i or o, who hasn’t made a mistake like that?

Anyway, we’ve all been there, we know the deal. 1 drink turns to 2. 2 drinks turns to 2.5 drinks. .5 of a drink goes on the floor cause you turned too fast with a full glass in your hand. You think, “what have I turned into?” It turns out it’s a hallway with a beer garden you didn’t know was back there. You walk out there. You realize behind the beer garden is a garden path. You pass out maps to your astonishment, but no one passes the mustard because you don’t have a hotdog. So you walk alone down the path.

You can all finish the next bit yourselves. You’ve all experienced it. Next thing you know you’re caught smack bang in the middle of an argument between a fox and a giant stonefish. The fox is upset because the giant stonefish has, according to the fox: “never ONCE offered to skim their pool for leaves which have escaped the branches of the trees in the adjacent Enchanted Forrest”

And the giant stonefish is like: “Wait a minute, are you fucking kidding me? That forest we’re adjacent to is the enchanted forest, THE Enchanted Forest? You knew that and you’ve never ONCE offered to take me for a walk through its magical shrubs, lumps and trunks?”

And the fox is like: “You don’t have fucking feet, you can’t go for a walk ANYWHERE”

And the giant stonefish is like: “I don’t have fucking hands either, and you want be to fucking skim the leaves off the pool dick!”

And we’ve all experienced it. You’re eek solvanted, you’re throbbing in the imbroglio, you’ve run out of interesting words you just found poking around a thesaurus and/or just made up and that you’re using despite you not knowing their real meanings, and no one else being likely to either, so fuck it, and you fucking HATE conflict, so rather than mediate, rather than peace broker, you just fucking skim the leaves off the pool yourself!

Now it’s the next morning. You don’t remember much of what happened after you picked up the pool skimmer. You feel regretful. Why is it always YOU who ends up skimming the pool? But you don’t recall much else. Perhaps the drinks took hold of your blood. Maybe your fugged up concupiscent imbroglio has taken over. But whatever it is, you look across your bed and it turns out… you… are… not…in… bed… alone!

Oh smack.

Now is when this normal every day evening we’ve all enjoyed, or at least experienced, takes a spin down the path of weirdness. You’ve stepped off the ledge of relatable to the hob tower and into the unknown my friends. Because it turns out, in your bed, your fucking bed, alongside you, practically INSIDE you, is something that wasn’t there last night – that’s right you have a big throbbing mosquito bite.

The horror.

But then you scratch the itch, and that feels pretty good. It’s fun even.

Well this is where things take a turn for the exciting. I am here to tell you – you do NOT have to have a mosquito bite to enjoy the fun of scratching. In fact there are many things you can scratch for fun that have absolutely nothing to do with itching at all. Consider this list of fun every day things you can scratch anytime you want completely free of the need to itch first:

- Scratch and win thingies

- Scratch and sniff stuffs

- Glass

- Sandy enclaves

- The cornea in your eyeball

- Small wounds that have started to heal

- Being married for seven years

- Dry flakey scalps.

That’s right the list is nearly endless!

So have fun scratching everyone and remember – “You’ve Been To The Fun Field Of Dreams Starring You, and Kev

Nope, still haven’t nailed the catch phrase. We’ll get there. Stay fun everyone! What could go wrong?

The Best Day Of my Life Steeliness - epitome and exemplification

Today was the best day of my life, and for really clear reasons. Today I missed a train! Yay.

Well ok, that’s not that unusual. And actually when I think about it I didn’t miss the train. I got on a train. It wasn’t the first train I saw. It was the third in fact.

Holy shit a huge cockroach just crawled onto by desk as I am writing this. At first I thought it was a big ass spider, in which case I would currently be dead, from jumping so high I smacked my head on the ceiling till I was DEAD! Which makes no sense because I didn’t jump when I actually saw it, and at the time I thought that I had seen a spider, and proceeded investigated to see what it actually was, thinking it was probably a spider. The point is I am a goddamn hero, brave beyond belief, possibly should be given some form of cape. Back to the train.

Cockroach update:  When I had discovered that it was actually a cockroach I decided to jump back on this computer right away, instead of catching and killing the motherfucker. And then I wrote that line – back to the train – which in it’s own way was a quite brilliant sentence, informative, retrained in it’s poetry, i

HOLY FUCK!!!!!!

Ok, ok, ok…

So I was writing the above thing, about the sentence and all that shit, and I was going off on a tangent, because I do things like that from time to time, and I didn’t quite get to the point I was trying to make, which was that because I decided to instantly write about the cockroach instead of catching the fucker and killing it, I had now lost it. I wrote that beautiful line about the train, knew where I was heading next, and thought I can write that bit after I catch it, but couldn’t find it anywhere. I think I just said the same thing twice in a row in slightly different ways, neither completely clear, but I can’t fix it right now because my adrenalin is running too fast, and now that I have mentioned that I can’t fix it, I can now never fix it or else that line won’t make sense, and I can’t get rid off that too, or else I will have written this whole paragraph for nothing.

So I was writing the above thing, about the sentence and all that shit, then I wrote ‘retrained in it’s poetry, i’ and chose that moment, of all moments, during a adorable soliloquy on the beautify to be found in the spaces left blank, the poetry not said, but implied. At least that was my intent, but instead I wrote the letter ‘i’ and took a sip of my mostly empty can of soda, and as it reached it’s almost upside down trajectory so I could pour the last droplets of deliciousness into my mouth, the fucking cockroach crawled from the bottom of the can straight towards my face!!@!!

HOLY FUCK!!!!!!

I jumped like a fucking little bitch. I should not be called a hero. No fucking way. I am but a scared little bug with the tip of a big ass frog tongue about to snatch its face right off it’s little body. Adding a bug metaphor here was stupid, as it may confuse the issue more. But I can’t fix it now, or I will have written that for nothing. So I jumped an inhumane amount. Almost like I had the power of flight. Oh wait? Only superheroes can move like that. I am once again a hero. Thank fuck.

Please note: The fucking cockroach is now as dead as anything on this earth. It’s deader than a dinosaur fossilized, then carved out of the stone, then mashed into a powder, then snorted by some weird psychedelic scientists. Which then killed them. Because it turns out snorting dinosaur bones is dumb. And the dead scientist’s bodies were donated to scientist. Where they were cut up into little pieces and spread to medical schools and research labs across the country. Where small-minded future PHD’s used them to play ‘oh fuck my eye just fell in my salad’ practical jokes in front of their unsuspecting parents, causing at least several to have heart attacks. And when the ambulances arrive they realize the severity of the situation and race towards the hospital as fast as humanly possible, only to lose control and crash off a bridge into a river, where it explodes like a nuclear bomb due to the extremely high levels of chemical pollution which had recently been illegally dumped into the drainage that flows into this river, and will eventually be blamed for a new outbreak of leprosy which will kill 14,987 people over the course of many ‘does this water taste funny to you’ years.

Ok, brrrraaagghhheewww. I still feel dirty, it was looking at me! I think it ran at me! Why do my pubes now feel itchy, it didn’t go anywhere near there!

So the train story has kind of been lost. Fucking cockroach. But anyway, I just missed a train, then had to wait twenty minutes for the next, and instead of getting pissed off I decided to use the time to my advantage, and I made a phone call which I had been putting off due to a severe phone call phobia I suffer from, and even though there was no answer I felt good about my positivity, fear facing and time usage. I knew right as I eventually got on the train that the time had become the epitome and exemplification of why today was the best of my life. And decided then and there that this would be what my blog today would be about. Just that. No tangents. No distractions.

All ruined by a cockroach.

I could fix it, but then I would have nearly been brutally murdered by a cockroach for nothing. Sometimes things happen for a reason I guess.

Ps. Hey garbage person, sorry for leaving the many parts of a dead cockroach in the bin, I hope none of it falls out on you. But if it does and you jump an inhumane height, then you’re a goddamn superhero.