Mango crotch

Someone janked my laundry soap. I don't know why. There really isn't a need to steal soap. There wasn't even much in it. Maybe they thought it was theirs? Doubt it. My soap is unique.

(actual photo)

So CLEARLY someone has stolen my soap. Seems about as worthless as washing your hands after you pee, but whatever.


But, since people normally just leave soap lying around the washroom (another reason that stealing would be stupid), I just grabbed the first bottle of detergent and used it. It happened to be some fancy mango scented crap. As for the title, I'm doing whites now. Which means socks and underpants. So my crotch, butt, and feet will smell like succulent mango delight until my unbathed body rubs up on them so much that they start smelling like death.


I'm afraid someone's going to sniff my balls and compliment me. Worse, I'm afraid I'll start sniffing my balls and liking it.


Moral of the story: don't steal soap. You'll just create misery for everyone. Including yourself, because if I ever find the jerk who stole my soap, I'll use my arsenal of coarse insults, racial slurs, and  your mom jokes until they cry or give me back the empty bottle of soap.






Update: okay, so they don't smell at all like mangoes. Just really wet socks. This whole post is irrelevant now. And my day is ruined.

A sight that will never be forgotten

Imagine a goat, in all its splendorous splendor. Imagine it standing idly in a pen, enjoying his glorious personal space and just loving life.


Now imagine and ugly mass of wool (aka sheep), in all its smelly smelliness. Imagine it being a tool and totally invading the goat's personal space, breaking the barrier of the goat's majestic realm and bumping up against it uncaringly.


Imagine, if you can, the PURE BALLSY FURY that the goat would feel and express after some nasty sub-peon gets all up in his grill.


THIS IS THE SHOWDOWN I WITNESSED.


THIS IS THE MAGLORIOUSJESTIC BATTLE I SAW.


THIS IS THE SIGHT THAT WILL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN.


So the goat, sexy with his horizontal pupils, was just minding his own when some ugly-as-sin sheep decides it wants to bump into him. So the goat just goes crazy, see, and HEADBUTTS the CRAP out of the sheep. BAM! One right to the skull. BAM! Another one. BAM! They lock heads and run each other into the opposite fence. The goat JUMPS up on a table and BAM headbutts the stupid sheep again. The sheep gets the idea and decides to give up but NO, the goat won't have that! He leaps to another table and BAM hits the sheep again, then stands his ground in ethereal splendor.


Standing like a king atop the table, he watches his enemy walk away in shame and defeat. The goat has won. The sheep got its bum handed to it. All is well in the order of things. The kingdom is secure.


Long live the goats!


Moral of the story: respect your fellow goat. If you wish to approach one, treat it like royalty. Try offering food, or maybe your firstborn. It'll respect you.

Rock out with your sock out

Josh, Nick, and I made this for a class. It's the best video ever. Except for the IronMan 2 trailer.

Harecut

Things are starting to get a little... hare-y.

Philosophy is bunk

It occured to me lately that all philosophy is BS. I mean, there're a lot of great ideas, and the world would be worse off without it, but I'm talking about modern philosophy. Y'know, the kids in their bathrobes sipping fancy root beer talking about philosophy and arguing about life... that kind. The arguing/discussing/debating kind. It's pointless. Of all the things to argue about, why choose life?


Princeton defines philosophy as "the rational investigation of questions about existence and knowledge and ethics; any personal belief about how to live or how to deal with a situation."


So why do people argue about it? Life is based on perspective a lot of times. One person might belive a certain way because of what and how they've lived, but to another person, it wouldn't make any sense. So philosophy is relative. What works for one person wouldn't for another. So why would anyone waste their time talking and arguing about it?


Worse, is the teaching of philosophy. Not even an educated discussion, but someone telling you what to believe or how you should live. Funny how philosophers who call themselves "free thinkers" think their way is the best or only way to live. That's not really thinking freely... kinda narrow-minded if you ask me. Also contradictory and hypocritical.


Teaching philosophy is stupid, but teaching free thought etc. is great. If you can think for yourself, you can mold a "philosophy" out of your life and out of what you see and feel and experience, not molding your life and thoughts and perception around a pre-packaged "philosophy." Honestly, why would anyone say "Hey this philosophy is cool, I'm going to change my life around and live by it?" Why would anyone choose to live by a certain set of thoughts and beliefs?


Moral of the story: think for yourself. Learn, experience, explore. This counts for religion, too.

Be my asylum.

I just don't know what to do. All I can do is keep living, but... is this really living? I keep saying no. This isn't living. If I were to die tomorrow, God forbid, I will not have truly died, because I have not truly lived.


I'm lonely as a hermit in the mountains in a post-apocalyptic alternate reality where no one but him speaks English and all the mountain animals are either dead or turned into psychotic mutants pumped so full of radiation they glow fiercly even in broad daylight.


It's been getting worse. And all these humans being so stupid with love and being so pathetic and absolutely mental just makes me want to punch a hole in their chests. Honestly, I don't know how much more I can take. I don't know how many more people I can watch suffer and wither away because of their own senseless stupidity. Maybe that's conceited. I don't care.


It's really getting to me. Every day, that aching and painful, burning longing grows deeper and more intense. It's killing me. I'm dying. Slowly. Fortunately, suicide has never, is not, and will never be an option.


Then, there's the fun, dreadful monotony of life. Every day is just the same as the next. Every week is the same as any other. It's like I'm going through each week, then rewinding the clock and living it again. And again. And again. I'm trapped. And again. Can't escape. And again. This is mad. And again. I'm dying. And again. Nothing changes. And again. This is killing me. 


This is all just so ridiculous. I hate it. But there's not a thing I can do about it. And that's the hardest part. Seeing everything fall to pieces, fully aware, but chained to a rock, a Prometheus, with the eagles tearing out my liver. Not able to do anything even if I could. 


Ergh. I hate everything. I need a vacation. Or a punching bag.


Moral of the story: he who hasn't lived can never die.


I guess that means I'm immortal?