So, as you may have noticed, I skipped a few days here. I really didn’t have anything to blog about and, well, there was Pinterest and such. Okay, so it was mainly Pinterest and such rather than a lack of material, but whatever. Honestly, I’m not really sure what to make of my blog audience anyhow. I’ll have, like, 20 or so hits one day, no hits the next, then 4 or 5, then 7, then 1, then 45. It’s exceedingly puzzling. Don’t get me wrong, I am beyond psyched that anyone reads it at all, it’s just rather bizarre. But, returning to Pinterest keeping me from blogging–I swear, it never ceases to amaze me what one can find on there. My biggest problem is, once I find some nifty sort of thing, I then have the overwhelming compulsion to find more nifty things like it, then I happen upon something else while tooling along in search of the first couple nifty things, and so on and so forth. It’s a vicious cycle really.
While I was meandering around on Pinterest, I happened to stumble upon this:
I mean, come on folks! It simply doesn’t get any more awesome than a huge inflatable zombie, dressed very Christmasy, chillin’ in your yard alongside the Santa-pig and a pink flamingo wearing a scarf and a Santa hat and all the other cutesy ‘normal’ decorations! Seriously, beyond amazing!
Randomosity: I have a hard time taking a grown person who goes by the name Jimbo very seriously. Who the hell chooses to go by the name Jimbo for crap’s sake?? I’ve been watching the show Intervention, and I must admit, I just don’t get it. They all point to neglect or abuse or molestation or some such thing as the root cause of their behavior. My entire childhood was overflowing with that sort of shit, and I still don’t get it. Just because my life hasn’t been all storybook-ish, doesn’t mean I get to blame everyone else for the choices I have made. Don’t get me wrong, I have done some epically stupid things over the years, I just figure that, when all is said and done, I am the one who made the choices I did. If I decided to start shooting up Heroin (ewewewewewew) or drinking gallons of alcohol every day, it would be my choice to head down that road. I will admit that I do understand the desire to reach oblivion, to escape the shittiness of existing. What I don’t understand is the pure, unadulterated selfishness of being an addict. It isn’t only self-destructive, it will also destroy anyone and everyone who cares about you. Really, it’s just an excruciatingly slow form of suicide and, just as with any suicide, it doesn’t make your pain go away, it just spreads it to those close to you. Besides, if you really take a good look around you, you’ll find reasons to keep living, no matter how hard it is. And another thing, if you have the kind of money that it takes to purchase this amount of drugs, why the hell would you want to spend it on something like that?!? I feel guilty when I spend money on unnecessary things like a book or a movie for cryin’ out loud! I wonder why I have never been able to play with a paddle-ball without hitting myself or innocent bystanders. Is there some super-secret trick or something? I can’t roller blade either. Or roller skate. Or hit a volleyball, though that particular inability is ’cause I’m preoccupied with trying to stay out of its path in order to avoid some grievous injury that would result from the volleyball whacking me in the face. You know, like when the football smacked Marcia Brady right in the face and her nose basically exploded? Totally would happen to me. Like the time I face-planted in front of the capital building on our class trip to Washington D.C. There were 8 classes before mine (or maybe including mine…not sure which) and no one had gotten so much as a scraped knee. I came along, bashed my face, and had to go to the hospital and get stitches in my upper lip. ‘Cause I’m awesome like that. I’ll have to remember to tell that story in more detail in another post.