My Dad

My father likes to pretend as though he doesn't really like any of us kids. But it's pretty obvious that when we're gone he only has the cat to yell at. So I like not calling home for a few weeks and seeing how many sad phone calls I can get from him. I'm up to, like, 8 right now.

Blogging the depths of the abyss,
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Slummin'

Sometimes when I am waiting, I think back to when I live at home and have to wait for my parents to pick me up. I am so happy my parents live in SD and not in a ghetto because during the mass amounts of time that they made me wait every day I sometimes wonder if I would have started doing drugs, stolen people's shoes, or joined a gang.

Scratch that...

Sometimes when I am waiting I think how awesome it would be to live in a ghetto and join a gang.

Blogging the depths of the abyss,
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Crazy Bus Lady

In a larger city, one often takes the bus to get around. On the bus there sit many crazies mixed in with the businessfolk, teens, mothers, teen mothers, etc.

One day I made the mistake of sitting next to a Crazy and she soon struck up a conversation... with herself. I sat next to her and listened to the woman discuss the politics of rain gutters and drain pipes and their effect on Scandinavia. Apparently she was pretty popular with herself because a few other voices agreed heartily as she won them over with her compelling argument.

After being distracted, I got off the bus stop in the wrong part of town and the next bus wasn't due for a half hour. As incredibly sketchy folk lurking in the shadows and behind trashcans began to wander closer to me, I formulated a plan. A creeper stuck his hand toward me and I quickly began to twitch and talk to myself. Then I offered him a piece of my hair. Needless to say, he left me alone, and I got home safely.

Anyone interested in a few strands of hair??

Blogging the depths of the abyss,

[a]

The Badonkadonk

Browsing Amazon, I came across a little tag called "Amazon Oddities." Intrigued, I clicked and found "fresh whole rabbit" and "Badonkadonk tank." Extremely intrigued, I clicked on the latter. For $19,999.95 the tank could be yours!


I checked the product out and found several hilarious reviews:

• "Considering the driving habits of the locals in my area, I decided that trading in my sedan was probably a good idea, in fact, something that would improve my health more than eating broccoli and drinking green tea."


• "I've been at war with the other guys in the cul de sac for a while. One of them started running over people's cars with his H1. In response the guy 2 doors down bought a decommissioned Soviet-era Tank. When he went to battle with the H-1, he missed and smashed another neighbor's house. Well, I don't have the money for a Soviet Tank or a Hummer, so I contented myself to building moats and fortifications and purchasing a mortar launcher."


• "I bought this tank for my four-year-old, and I have to say that I'm a little bit disappointed. Although Amazon claims the tank can reach a top speed of 40 miles per hour, my son was only able to crank it up to about 36, and also crashed it into my mother's car. If you've never played "Grand Theft Auto," let me clue you in: When it comes down to tank vs. car, tank wins. "
  
• It's the vehicle for you if you already have the following:
  Exotic Sports
  Car Sports
  Car Luxury
  Sedan Convertible
  Full-sized SUV
  Mid-sized SUV
  Compact SUV
  Crossover SUV
  Wagon
  Mid-sized Sedan
  Compact
  Sub-compact
  Motorcycle
  Moped
  Bicycle
  Tricycle
  Skateboard
  Inline
  Skates
  Pogo
  Stick
  Sneakers
  Loafers
  Sandals
  Socks

Of course, sites like this offer gift cards and prizes for having the best fake reviews.

Blogging the depths of the abyss,
[a]

Stalker

Signing on to Facebook one night I realized that I had a stalker who had e-mailed me a message confessing his love for me. I decided to reply back and talk to him for a while.

The sad thing about him is that he is a terrible stalker. I'm the one that had to tape up my schedule on his door so he could follow me from class to class. I also gave him my cell number, room number, and hours that I am awake and told him to call anytime. I walk past his door constantly to see if it's open, and if it is I stand outside and listen to his conversations to see if he's talking about me. I generally make it a habit to walk past all of his classes to make sure he got there alright.

And for some odd reason that I cannot possibly figure out, I was arrested last night for waiting in his room, with a box of cheese knives, in the dark until he came back from class.



Blogging the depths of the abyss,
[a]