Search blog:
Subscribe to blog posts:

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

In addition to making me continually wrong, irritable, liable to forget singing lessons, and slow, PMS makes me think of the darndest things. For example, today during a conversation with Robert, I related to him at great length a fluffy news story I saw last Easter which showed footage of baby chickens eating Peeps. Having been awake for well over 24 hours at the time (ahh, those crazy days at WHP), and being possessed with an unexplainable chicken fetish, the story scarred me for life.

And so, I talk about it for no apparent reason to people every now and then. But, hey ...



There is a giant peep at the Pennsylvania State Museum. Of course, they don't have a picture of it on the website, because otherwise nobody would visit. It's a fucking monster. It's the goddamn Cthulhu of peeps. Thank god my experimental days are behind me, because if I'd seen it for the first time while tripping my balls off, I would have keeled over and died on the spot.

Seriously, the thing is the size of four elephants. Its beady little eye must be as big as a beach ball.


Look at this! We bought it the other day just because it's called Peepee.



Another thing that crosses my mind when I have PMS, aside from shooting myself in the head for being wrong all the fucking time, is ripping people's lungs out. For example, there is a fellow I know - let's call him Turd - who drives me to distraction even when I don't have PMS. The worst thing about Turd is his creepy little habit of making involuntary revolting sounds with his mouth and vocal cords. When he eats, it sounds like tentacle rape in the next room. Before he speaks, soft incoherent murmurs escape his mouth. And even when he's sitting in utter silence, for some reason, he makes weird tiny moaning noises every few minutes.

The other night, I was sitting near him, surrounded by an uncomfortable silence broken only by these bizarre little moans.

"Mmmm."

"Mmm."

"Hhhhm. Mmm."

And all I could think about was reaching over and ripping out one of his fucking lungs.



SHHHHLLLLRROOOOOOOPP! Yeah, let's see you make moaning noises without one of your lungs.

I started writing this blog on Saturday, so some of these news stories might be a bit old.
Post a Comment