The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Dating Advice

 

It’s weird how much extra face skin I have, right? My brother can do the exact same thing … And I got this idea because he told me about how he used to pull his face like I did, then get someone to do that, then tell the person, “yeah that extra skin is from my butt.”

It’s GOLD, baby, GOLD!

Wonder Tourist

 

Australia Rottnest Island

My Zombie Roomy (11/1/12)

I’ll admit, I stereotyped. I feel bad having done it (but only because it turned out I was wrong).

On Wednesday I didn’t see the Zombie at all. Tuesday he was gone by the time I came home from work. Today? Still no sign of him. But I did see a little pumpkin thing. You know, one of those little plastic pumpkins kids get to hold their candy when they trick-or-treat.

Here is a slow-motion capture of the thoughts that raced through my mind.

“The heck? Why is … Oh it’s the Zombie’s … Oh God it’s probably got human parts in it … Oh man it’s probably a kids hands … Oh no oh no oh no …”

The last one I thought over and over as I slowly approached it. Mental pictures of this weird, gross scene I had imagined kept repeating in my mind. I don’t know why, but I kept picturing a kids hands in the bucket.

I reached the bucket and … instead it was candy. Regular old candy, like any kid would have after a night of trick-or-treating. I hate to admit it, but I was a little disappointed.

My dear, dear Zombie roommate did not have the crazy Halloween I expected him to have. I really expected some morbid sense of humor kind of thing. A little kids trick-or-treat bucket filled with zombie-snacks. How funny would that be in a dear-God-what’s-happened-to-my-sense-of-right-and-wrong-oh-wait-I-have-distanced-myself-from-reality sort of way? I’ll tell you – it would be very funny.

But nope. Just candy.

Of course, I still won’t eat it. My stereotype that the Zombie is secretly playing morbid Halloween jokes remains intact (but shh, I’m admitting this only in a rare moment of clarity known as drinking and blogging). My assumption (hope? what’s happening to me?) is that under those loving exteriors of my favorite candy bars (tiny Crunch bars, a regular sized Twix, some Peanut Butter Cups, M&Ms!, …) … are tiny, chopped up bits of people.

Is that weird that I think that?

My parents are coming in to town tomorrow so I told the Zombie to get lost for a while. He stinks up the place something awful, and I don’t want my parents to have to deal with it. The time apart could be good for my apparently skewed moral compass.