deaddude

This entry is going to be shorter than the last three since I'm feeling quite tired. See, in my job I have to undertake such strenuous activities as giving out juice and opening doors. This may seem simple and effortless, but the juice is actually acid, and I have to carry it in my hands, and make the cups for out of leather, which I much make, while holding the juice, out of cow skin, and the doors that I must open are 60 feet tall, with spikes yet completely smooth exteriors lacking any form of door knob, so I must somehow pry them open. Nevertheless, it is fairly decent job. It pays more than minimum wage, which is what I was expecting, if not worse if they decided to pay me not with money but in gold doubloons or maybe I would have to barter with them and give them 16 hours of work for 2 chickens and an ear of corn. I would normally be fine with that given my affinity for chicken, corn, and working for multiples of 4 hours, but unfortunately Toys R Us doesn't accept chickens as a form of payment. They did however accept goats and young cattle, but unfortunately that would require going to Goats n Baby Cows R Us and I don't even know if they take chickens. Either way, its for the best that I get paid with money, although honestly they could just skip the middle man and pay me in Bionicle and Arizona brand green tea. Today a man gave me $20 and told me to buy him 8 bottles of ice-coffee. I told him I'd do it; little do I realize that they only accept payment for coffee with chickens. I don't know what they do with the chickens aside from making chicken flavored coffee or coffee flavored chicken, but either way, only then did I realize that perhaps I should've requested payment in chickens. I decided to just make the coffee myself and put it in half-cleaned mayonnaise jars and hope he wouldn't notice. I just told him that they make Slightly Mayonnaise flavored coffee now. Of course I cheated with the coffee and just melted some Coffee Crisp candy bars. Either way, he was greatly satisfied, and I got to keep his $20 and spend it on wallet lotion, since my wallet really needs it or else it gets hives. -DD, obsessed with chickens? Could be worse, no one will trade for turkeys.

Today was the beginning of my second weekend of work at the Castle of the Ancient Armies, otherwise known as either a nursing home, or a prison for the saggy and wrinkled. I didn't see the queen of the old people today since she doesn't come in on weekends, meaning I was free to do as I pleased. The awesomeness of having no rules, which under normal circumstances would be able to power a small clown-car from here (New York) to China, including being so concentrated so as to be used as jet fuel to fly over the Pacific Ocean, was negated by the fact that I was in a nursing home. Almost nothing is cool in a nursing home, not even ice or Mr. T. When I arrived, at 7 in the A.M., not because I had to but because nothing gets you up in the morning quicker than seeing yourself in 70 years, either slowly shuffling, your feet never leaving the ground, or pushing yourself in a wheelchair in circles as if being chased on a carousel, I had no key to get inside. Thankfully, one of the poor, poor souls trapped inside the prison, also known as night-shift nurses, did some sacred ritual which included sacrificing a goat that we happened to have at the nursing home for such an emergency, and the gate to the castle opened. Now, I only work weekends, which means I don't get the -one- set of keys that opens all the doors that I need to open since I can't get it from them on Friday night. Unfortunately I also thought it would be smart to put my house keys on it, so I spent the night before in a box with a hairy, jello-and-eggs smelling man named Big Zeek. Me and him are going to a carnival on Wednesday, you're all invited if you can make it to New York, however the catch is that you have to build your own rides, since me and Big Zeek couldn't find a real carnival so we're just gonna make our own. I'm making a carousel by just attaching some horses to one of the old people in a wheelchair. Anyway, without the keys, I couldn't open anything, such as the door to the smokers' lounge, or portals to other dimensions, which is something we do habitually at the Oldness Home. I sat crying for hours, since my keys are my greatest love besides Bionicle. If you were here you'd see on one shelf a row of Bionicle figures, and then next to it a shelf of Key Action Figures. They even have door-opening action! Nevertheless I persevered without my keys just like a chicken can run around for like 10 minutes without its head, only I can't eat with my keys. Once the girl who always comes late and had the keys came, I ran up to her, stole the keys, hissed, and hid into a dark little corner to caress my keys. I felt like a chicken who had his head stapled back on; I felt complete. I can't quite recall what happened in the 4-5 hours that happened after that, since it's so much fun working at an old person prison that all the fun and joy kinda melds together like when you leave two different flavors of ice cream together and then they melt and form a new flavored liquid together, only when you try to freeze that liquid to have hybrid ice cream, defying nature and the very concepts of life itself, it doesn't quite freeze right and you basically just get something along the lines of frozen yogurt. All I can remember is that I heard an old man complaining that a woman bit him. All I could think about after that was whether or not he would turn into an old woman during a full moon. -DD, not wanting to turn into an old anything, at any time.

90% of those voices are in my head -DD

Today I had a thought, which are both rare and random, often inflicting great pain and at the same time a sense of worthiness as I feel "Wow, its like I just saw Bigfoot/Sasquatch/Yeti/Manbearpig." I had this thought while using my cat as an air guitar. You see, he is quite corpulent, which basically means that if he were any fatter I could use him for weight training and increase my muscle mass to look like Arnold Swarzeneggar, although at this point looking like him is not an accomplishment given his governator status. Nevertheless, for some reason his furry cat-belly was just so alluring, begging to be petted, so I pet my fuzzy little bundle of annoying and as I decided to use his belly as an air guitar, wildly thrashing my head like I was having some sort of cat-allergy induced seizure, I was suddenly reminded why I am glad I don't have a robot following me around with a camera in his cold steel claws to take pictures of me all the time as a pint size paparazzi, because I was indeed planning to do that for my latest ploy to get cheap Bionicle figures, but unfortunately a key component to this plan was not having pictures of myself looking retarded. As I went about my day picturing what life would be like if instead of using paper bags, or plastic bags, or any bags, I would just have a midget butler named Chives to carry around all my purchases and laughing at all the plebians who have to use their own arms like total suckers, I decided to start building something with my LEGO brand Bionicle brand building blocks, because in saying this I decided I wanted to be both politically correct buy refering to them in their proper terminology, while also being hypocritical in not calling a midget a 'little person', since a) I find little person to be too ambiguous- midgets and dwarves are not the same, I should know, my distant cousin being a dwarf, and B) i find having to be specified as shorter than the average person being more demeaning than the word midget. Simply put I decided to make a MoC. The above paragraph was in fact only two sentences. The above paragraph was technically not a paragraph, being only one sentence, nor were the 2 sentences before it technically paragraphs. Nevertheless, as I went about building, I needed an extra length double socket, such as the Piraka thighs, which immediately drove my heart right off a cliff into fear and paranoia in a flaming H2 Hummer down into a valley of spikes and cannibals. And pirahnas. See, I hate having to build with those pieces, as they break faster than an old man's... well everything really. I was just hoping I wouldn't wind up building in black, because as you can see, I build with a rich variety of colors, like plastic Fruity Pebbles. Sure enough I wound up building in black and bley, and needing an extra long black double socket, I decided to rip Nocturn's arm off, because I don't negotiate with my figures, I'll go to extreme measures to get what I want from them. Yes I do threaten them. Surely enough, after a little while I hear a crack and hope that it was just the sound of my ankle breaking instead, since thats happened before and I got a trimester off of gym, and since I hate gym more than I hate having my ankle broken, it was for the best. Alas, my double socket cracked, and then snapped right off. I had a small funeral for it, burying it in some guy's yard. He got very angry at me for it but when I told him it was for a Bionicle piece he was cool with it and got me some sandwiches and scented candles. Nocturn is recovering nicely, since it was his Polyp launcher arm, and those launchers suck anyway. In the mean time he'll still be a freak, since he still has one arm too many. -DD, hoping that the double socket is in a better place, I know that the sandwiches aren't.

Since the powers that be have deemed me unworthy of mail like any other American should have (my mailbox is locked shut somehow, as if a wee gnome welded it shut and has made its home in it), I had to go down to the post office to pick up my mail, which has accumulated over the days of my thinking 'Wow it is certainly odd that I haven't gotten mail for a week'. After a long wait in line (I now have a beard and a need glasses because of it), and having to deal with getting my mail from what I think was a particularly rude woman, but the mustache and low brow had me confused, I was in a hurry to get home, because I always get super excited about reading mail... I decided to go the local pharmacy before heading straight back; my mother sent me on errand to get her some medicine since the dentist decided he hated her and ripped her tooth out and then proceeded to bronze it and make it his tiny trophy, adding it to a huge shelf of hard earned teeth. While I'm in the pharmacy I see dozens of Bionicle sets. I don't know how, or why, except that maybe they hid money or jewels in them since they were on a shelf so high that no child could reach. Of course I could reach it though. Low and behold, dozens of Toa Iruini sets. I bought one for myself, and then contemplated the possibilities that a dozen of on-sale Iruinis opened- the first thought that came to mind was buying all of them, and after frantically rushing home, pushing away small children and punting old women out of my way, pouring all the pieces into my bath tub and just bathing on all the plastic, and spend the rest of my vacation in a green and gold plastic jacuzzi. Alas there were no old women in the immediate area to punt, and that was a pivotal component of my plan, so I only bought one Iruini and decided I'd come back for more later, perhaps to sell *cough* DISCLAIMER- Deaddude does not endorse the punting of the elderly, or for that matter any people, places, or things, or any other nouns. Adjectives are fair game, they get what they deserve. -DD, having a very pitiful excuse for a bath with only one Iruini set. This isn't even enough to wash your hands with.