It's particularly hard to blog when you are depressed. At least it is for me. I think the only thing that might cheer me up today is having my own Krankiboy action figure. It's always been a dream of mine to be a piece of plastic that some little kid plays with. I imagine that some little boy would traumatize his sister by putting the action figure into a compromising position with her Barbie doll. Yes, my therapist has very solid job security.
My friend had himself put onto a superhero trading card, with all his powers and superhero origin info. It sounds like a cool Gen X thing to have for a business card. I don't remember where he got it.
I blatantly stole some more crap from the mega pet store and afterwards Penny scolded me. I tend not to give a shit about rules and regulations when I am in a crap mood.
Last night I had this dream in which I was supervising some young kids on a camp out in the woods. A few pre-teen students were also on the field trip. One of the kids was being troublesome and annoying the younger kids. Then he had a double-sided axe and he hurled it straight up hundreds of feet in the air. It was clearly going to land on somebody. That's when I woke up to see Penny had been watching me sleep. As I woke up I kicked my knee out and muttered "I'm gone fucking kill him." Apparently I sometimes do this little twitching thing in my sleep and talk and flail a bit. Penny says that she likes to watch me and actually thinks that it's "adorable." Kind of like when dogs are in a deep sleep and they flick their paws and scrunch their nose and give a few feint little woofs. Basically they look like they're dreaming about chasing a rabbit.
So that makes me believe that if dogs can dream then they must be able to think. Science hasn't fully accepted this notion. Why not? I don't know. Maybe they need to study my dogs in a complex experiment. Then my dogs would at least be helping to bring in some money and pay the rent. All that canine energy and they can't even help me carry the groceries up the stairs.
I'm being picked up to get dinner and watch live boxing at the Staples Center and will likely be fed an expensive meal. I'm sure if I can shake off this malaise it'll be a great night out. But right now I'd really just like to have a nice restful sleep and dream that I'm in a lush field chasing rabbits.
It's okay, I don't understand my blog posts anymore either.
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5 comments:
I like you
To ensure your action figure can bump uglies properly with barbie, please make sure he has bendy legs he can wrap around her, cos the smashing of the pelvises that I did with my ken's/he-man's to barbie's was very unsatisfying to my innocent little brain. I knew there had to be better plastic doll sex than that. Plus barbies legs don't bend, so no doggy style. Jeez my warped childhood sure explains a lot.
Hurry here, Kranki. We're ready to nurse you back into happiness via lots of champagne and fetta cheese. Also we will worship your plastic genitals. x
... or lack thereof.
Did you know it's almost impossible to be depressed DOWN UNDA? Which is why I'm such a rarity and therefore a National Treasure of Great Importance.
It's a shame Ass Breath and Freckle Dick can't come too. They could frolick with Bob Ellis and Zippy.
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