Snooze Buttons (Activate Instant Death)

I saw a dead crow in the parking lot when I was walking into my apartment, just now. It has been raining all day out there too, so it's probably pretty soft if some animal or person were wanting a free meal. The bird was also smashed, like someone ran it over with their car after it died and all it's entrails were coming out of it's ass. Wait, do birds have asses? I mean I guess they would have to in order to be able to shit all over everything like they do... I guess I never really thought about birds asses before.

I don't normally revel in death.... well..... usually not. Sometimes I think people meet their just end, sure. But I don't really celebrate it. That's a little too emo for even me. And my mom made me buy white and grey shirts in high school because she said I 'wear too much black' and she was worried I was super emo. Now look at me, almost thirty and I wear nothing but black and there's nothing she can do to stop me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am emo now and nobody can tell me not to do it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, I haven't ever really been happy something or someone died until I saw that bird gored to death out in the parking lot. I even kicked its intestines around just to make sure it was a real dead bird. You know, instead of a fake one.

So we live on the top floor of an apartment building. Not like, the nice kind where you have a view, it's just what was offered to us, so now I have to hike my lard ass up the stairs just to sit and/or lie down in my own house. It's bullshit, right? Even bringing home candy and soda to indulge in, I still have to carry it upstairs. Suffering from success.

Anyway, so we live on the top floor so there has been a particularly pestering crow that must have had a nest somewhere on the roof. Because the God forsaken bird would never shut up. And we could always hear it, even with the windows closed. However in the spring, summer and fall (And winter. Idk she is weird) my wife likes to sleep with the window open. And literally every morning between 5 and 6 that damn bird would start cawing. For like an hour. I have to be to work at 5:30 every day, so I am usually somewhat lucid by the time he would start yakking, but my wife likes to sleep in until 8 or 9. So naturally this bird became a pestilence. Every morning she would sigh heavily and slam the window shut and try (unsuccessfully) to go back to sleep. But she couldn't ever go back to sleep. It was kind of like the Edgar Allan Poe raven, but worse because he couldn't talk he could just shriek in a language unknown. What a dickhead, right?

I am not accusing my wife of murdering this bird, because I genuinely don't think she is capable of murder, but I would like to imagine it so. I also cannot be exactly sure that the morbid pile of a carcass out in the parking lot is the same bird that woke my wife up every day this past summer. Maybe he is still at large. Eating people's steak and ruining their lives in another, sunnier part of the world. I don't know crows migration patterns. However I do like to imagine my wife in camouflage with a huge blunderbuss and binoculars scoping out the roof of our apartment. Then, upon positively identifying the culprit, she blasts it to smithereens. She follows this up by running it over with her car and making sure he is, in fact, 100% dead. She then celebrates by smoking a large cigar and drinking a Perrier.

So, I hope that that is the bitter end for my wife's unasked-for alarm clock. Time will tell. In the meantime, there is a lady in our apartment who, literally every Saturday morning takes her children out into the parking lot and screams them into their carseats. Fortunately though, the kids yell back at her. So there is just a shouting match every Saturday morning at 7 AM out in our parking lot. I have considering shouting at them and telling them to shut the hell up, but I doubt they could hear me over the metal grinding loudness of their Saturday morning routine.

I am not suggesting that I hope this woman and her train horns for children get killed and run over in the parking lot... But that would be poetic justice. However that would make for an eerie streak of events that happened to people and birds that wake my wife up consistently. I should tread lightly. I have woken her up by farting too loudly more than once. If you find me in our parking lot ran over and all my guts are smushing out of my ass, you'll know I farted too early, and loudly, one too many times. But I died doing what I loved.

Take It From Me, I Am A Doctor.

Have you ever seen someone blow their nose into a plastic sandwich bag while you were trying to eat your lunch? Because I have. The problem isn't really that it happened, as much as it is that I haven't been able to stop reliving it. I think this is what they refer to in the medical world as 'emotional trauma'. Don't worry, I never got medically diagnosed for that. That is just what I, Dr. Mantis Toboggan, diagnosed myself with.

Isn't that such a strange thing? That people can literally read about shit online and diagnose themselves with problems? Some dumb ass website designer makes this thing that says "That this quiz to find out if you are bipolar!" and then this 40 year old lady does, it 'passes' the test, then just ASSUMES she has a chronic and debilitating mental illness. We went from 'Take this test to find out which Disney character you are!' alllllllllll the way to 'Take this test to find out if you have AIDS!' I hate to say this, but you should really be seeing a doctor, and not the Internet to get diagnosed with problems. The reason I hate to say that is because I straight up hate going to the doctor. Doctors are essentially people who can get away with insulting people, in the name of health. Every time I see a doctor, doesn't matter which one, they all say the same thing. "You probably don't feel very good because you are fat as SHIT!" And then the nurse comes in and high fives them.

I might have been exaggerating that last bit, but you will never know because I am protected under HIPAA law, bitch. Call the cops.

My biggest complaint amongst all of the Internet cures, diagnoses, and so forth is that people will go on generally believing whatever they read on the Internet, and then question what a licensed medical professional tells them. And just continue to believe whatever they want. I suppose that is their right, but hot damn.

I have found that this is particularly true amongst the tangled web of mental health/illnesses. People will read about someone who has actual diagnosed anxiety and/or depression disorder and will be like: "Dang. sometimes, I get nervous... I also sometimes get sad... I must have anxiety and depression, too!" And then will just believe that. Some side effects that they absolutely made up, and will believe that they have those problems. To me, this is criminally idiotic. That is like saying that your ass gets itchy sometimes, so you must have hemorrhoids. If you have ever met someone who truly has diagnosed anxiety or depression, you would not assume that you have those disorders because sometimes you like to stay in bed, or you get nervous before you go take a test. You would also not wish those disorders upon yourself.

I find humor in everything. The reason I write this is because I hope to make someone out there laugh, or at least smile. We are facing a harder and harder time, and mental health is something that we have to start taking seriously. We no longer live in 1920 where you can just go to work all day while you simultaneously smoke cigarettes and then come home and drink yourself into a stupor to forget all your problems. (Sounds nice though, if I am being honest) So take good care and watch out for those that you love, stab all the ones that you don't.

Don't Hunt This Mind, Dumbass

My wife has been watching this show on Netflix called Mindhunter. She was watching it when it first came out, and I remember being held against my will and forced to watch a few episodes with her at that time. I put a stop to it when, later that evening, after watching a television show that asks the question: "What were they thinking about when they murdered a shit load of people?" I left my house at night to go and get something from the store and saw someone on the road holding an axe. This would be commonplace if I lived in the woods and we all still used fireplaces to heat our homes, but I lived in an apartment near an airport. So needless to say, I stopped watching Mindhunter.

I got roped into it again the other day. Fortunately she has enough days off and gets bored enough, that she has watched the entire second season while I have been working. So I don't have to get spooked again and run from my car to my house while wearing slippers and basketball shorts.

My wife likes that show because she is always trying to stand in someone else's shoes. Always asking the 'why?' question. So Mindhunter is a show that is right up her alley, because it's literally trying to understand why serial killers did what they did. 

You see, this is a question that I have never, and will never ask. I don't really want to know what Ted Bundy was thinking when he lopped some poor girls head off with a hacksaw. I don't know why I would ever need to know that information. I'm satisfied with the answer: "That guy? Oh he's absolutely crackers. Steer clear of that guy, because he LITERALLY murders people." I just can't understand why I should pause to think "Okay, yeah he took someone else's life but, like......... Why?" There are certain things in life that I simply do not need to know. Something else I don't really need to know is: who's idea was it to have chamber pots? Who on God's green earth was like "I want to shit in my room and leave it there til morning"? Just another thing that sure, I could probably google and find out, but I am content with not knowing.

Maybe it's because I lack empathy. I have never really cared to know what someone was thinking or feeling when they made a decision. Because to me, if you have already made a decision, for better or worse, it doesn't really matter what you were thinking or feeling because now you/we have to deal with the consequences.

The real reason, I think, I never want to know what someone is thinking, is because I pray to God daily and nightly that nobody ever has to know what I'm thinking. While sure, most of the time it's the toy monkey clashing the cymbals together that's going on in my head; which is better known as nothing. I am thinking nothing. I am feeling nothing. I am breathing perfectly good air that someone else could be using to nurture their brain that propels them to cure cancer, or invent something that eliminates big oil companies and drives billionaires into the grave for good. And I am sitting around wondering what flavor Blue Raspberry is in real life. Often I will catch myself thinking something so profoundly stupid that I should write it down in a book to remind myself of what a fraud I am whenever I get haughty. I never do that because if someone ever found a little black book in the top of my toolbox that said things like "What if a toilet could weigh your shit?" or "What if they had a candle that smelled like a fart when you lit it and you could prank your family and friends?" and all other forms of bathroom/penis related humor, I would likely get arrested.

Here is a list of other idiotic thoughts that I have had that should be in the aforementioned book, but I am sharing with you:

What is the purpose of a goatee other than looking like an asshole?

Who were the first people to give and receive a titty twister, and what chain of events led them to that juncture?

How many asses has my ass touched by proxy of toilet seat?

Do you think if you put someone else's tooth in your mouth, it would taste different than your teeth?

What's the purpose of letting famous people into establishments for free? They have more money than everybody else, they should pay more.

Why do things that make you fat taste so astronomically, insanely, prodigiously much better than things that make you skinny?

Did the person who invented skim milk's mom not love him very much?

Do you think the first person who ever farted thought it was hilarious, or was that humor developed over time?

Who ever thought of eating cheese? Like just one day you're like "Boy this spoiled milk is uhhhhhh delicious."

If I made as much money as Bill Gates, I would probably end up weighing 900 lbs and they would have to hoist me out of my billion dollar house with a crane and bury me in a burial plot the size of a football field. Because all I would do is fly around the world and eat.

Someone is the fattest person alive right now and they might night even know it. They think they're just some regular fat ass, when in reality, they are THE fat ass.

Someone is also the dumbest person alive, and they definitely don't know it, but everyone they associate with does.

People who are adamant that pineapple doesn't belong on pizza need a new hobby.

They should stop arguing about whether being male or female is harder and just agree that being alive is hard.

Life is so good right now that we are making up problems for ourselves because we are bored. 300 years ago there was no such job description as a 'fantasy football analyst' or 'professional video game streamer'. They were all just farmers or hunters because they were trying to not die. And now we live in the most amazing time in human history and all we do is stand around and bitch at each other because someone believes that you shouldn't be allowed to buy a bazooka at Walmart and the other person believes that doctors shouldn't be available to help EVERYONE, just rich people. I don't really have a way to wrap up that thought, it's just something that I was thinking about. That we live in this amazing time and we all hate each other and want to kill each other and steal all their money and eat all their steak.

I hope that this clears up any questions you may have had for me about the hit Netflix series Mindhunter. See you next time. (In hell)

Diet Soda Is A Cult

I have been officially brain washed. While I am aware that this is not a cognizant thought that someone who has truly been brain washed typically has, I can assure you that I have without question been brain washed.

Have you ever had skim milk? It sucks total and complete ass. I have never been quiet about my disdain for skim milk, nor will I ever be. Skim milk is the mediocre sitcom of beverages. You don't actively search it out, you just drink it/watch it because it doesn't make you feel better or worse. It just lets you sink into nothingness. Unless you are me. Skim milk inspires hatred and anger. I think people who tell themselves they like skim milk probably also tell themselves that they like kale and mushrooms. Most of the people who drink skim milk are people who grew up with it. Which means that their parents might not have loved them very much. I feel sorry for them having such a rough upbringing, to be totally honest. I would imagine that they never had any good cereal to at least sweeten up the skim bullshit, they probably just had raisin bran and tears. Ron Swanson has summed up skim milk in the best possible way. Said he: "There is only one thing I hate more than lying; skim milk. Which is water that is lying about being milk." I will never drink skim milk, and I will die on that hill.

Did I get off on the wrong foot? Am I ranting about skim milk's inferiority again? Yes, and I always will.

Anyway, back to me being brain washed. Have you ever had diet soda? It's basically like regular soda but without the delicious taste and the conscious weight and pain of a regular soda. It's like telling yourself that you are drinking water, but if it actually tasted good. It's really similar to eating a lean cuisine instead of a hungry man, you eat it and you're like 'well, that wasn't very satisfying, but it did the job.' A phrase I am sure that is uttered most often by brides on their wedding night. They shouldn't call it diet, they should just call it guilt free soda. I don't truly believe that it will help you with your diet, I just think it helps you justify it. Like myself, we are all just looking to justify our poor actions and behaviors.

I recently went 'on the wagon' so to speak, and stopped drinking the fully leaded Coca Cola. AKA the nectar of the Gods. Saying that you're 'on the wagon' is just a nice way of saying that you have lost control of your actions and can't be trusted to make good decisions or have something in moderation. You are a glutton. So you must quit cold turkey, withal. That is what I had to do with Coke. I love Coke, and I would drink it all day long and would feel nothing. However, the intake of that much high fructose corn syrup was affecting my body. Against all odds, I was getting fatter. I never admitted it out loud, but I would stand shirtless in front of the mirror for long spells of time looking at myself in horror. It was like I was waiting for bloody Mary to come out. But instead I was just looking at a burlap sack filled with mushy potatoes. So my wife suggested that I stop drinking Coke.

I'm still hopelessly addicted to the caffeine. When your alarm clock rings at 4:30 AM every weekday, you need the help. I have resorted to Excedrin in the mornings to keep me awake on my drive. But all the while I think longingly about Coke and its loving embrace. I'm sure the hard drug AKA booger sugar would wake me up as well, but I am talking about the soda here.

My mother in law tried to convert me to diet coke when we went on a cruise this winter. She said and I quote "you don't like it at first and then you just keep drinking it and one day you like it." Which to me sounded like nonsense. You might as well be telling me "you don't know how much better your sense of smell can be until you gouge your eyes out." This sounded like Diet Coke cult pyramid scheme nonsense.

And then it happened.

I knew if I had one drop of coke that I would backslide and I would have to start all over again. So I started drinking Coke Zero. Which I still find to be a piss poor excuse for a Coke, but it's tolerable.

Then I found Coke Zero with Vanilla. Which is still like the Asian knock off of Vanilla Coke (Which is basically legal crack. How can they get away with selling something that good? Vanilla Coke on tap > literally everything else)

Now I am drinking Diet Mtn Dew and wondering what happened to my life. Am I going to become like every other middle aged white woman who drinks diet? Am I going to start believing in the healing powers of DoTerra oils? Will my next car be an SUV with a third row of seats? Will I start using dry shampoo? Will I bleach my hair blonde? I don't know who I am anymore.

I'm not convinced that diet is better than regular and I never will be. I just find it to be a tolerable and guilt free alternative. At least until I get aspartame poisoning. What will I drink then? Water? Get right the hell out of here.

Mirror Mirror On The Wall Who's The Biggest Dumb Ass Of All

Have you ever thought that you had bad luck? Like maybe you spilled the salt and that's the reason that you fell down the stairs? Or maybe you walked under a ladder and that's why you aren't rich? I have these thoughts all the time. I always try to explain something that has happened, either good or bad, on some external force that is out to get me/trying to help me.

I grew up in an overly superstitious household. Being called from another room because someone dropped a fork and didn't want to pick it up. Or throwing a handful of salt over your right shoulder to correct the salt you spilt on the table. It gets a little exhausting trying to trace back all my steps and think "Maybe it was because I _____________." Always seeking for some kind of explanation for everything, although comforting at the conclusion to find a blame for things, was tiring.

I do think that some superstitions can be interesting/valuable. I love hardcore/metal music, I have for years and years. My parents thought that it was because I was possessed, but in reality I just liked being different, and liked music with some kind of message. I listened to a lot of heavy music through my tenure at Manti High School. I also played football and wrestled. While most of the guys on my team would listen to music in the locker room prior to a game, my 'superstition' was to not listen to music at all, even though I love(d) music. I found that I preformed much better if I just sat and thought. So does that mean I would play horribly if I were to listen to music? Not likely. In retrospect I just had a better head space. So maybe some 'superstitions' are more of a preferential thing that get carried throughout time, and passed on.

Or maybe people are just insane?

Have you ever looked into peoples 'signs'? Those are some beliefs I do not understand. Because you were born at a certain time when the earth was a certain position in its pattern around the sun explains why you act a certain way? Not only that, it will predict future actions and behavior patterns? Who even thought long enough about that to piece that together? I don't even know what my sign is, or what I will act like. Is that typical behavior for my sign? Did they predict that? Is there other magic involved? Can the stars tell me the next lottery drawing numbers? Can they at least tell me whats for dinner?

Never mind, I am cooking dinner I already know whats for dinner, stupid. That was a trick question.

Have you ever thought that maybe all the bad luck and signs are just your excuse for not taking responsibility for your own shitty actions? Or not accepting that sometimes bad things happen for a reason you can't explain? I understand the feeling that you don't want to accept that something is out of your control. That is probably one of the hardest lessons that I am still learning as I have grown up. I have learned in my marriage that I am a 'fixer'. I just solve problems, whatever they are and whatever the cost. Even if I have to stay up all night, I will fix the sink, or the toilet, or the car, or whatever. If something happens that I can't fix, it honestly and truly upsets me. So I have spent the last couple of years trying to reign that in. I agree that it's way easier to have something fall through, or the car break down, or money run out and shake your fist at the sky and curse God, or the devil, or Sagittarius or your cursed luck, or what the hell ever. It's hard to accept that sometimes things just fall apart for no rhyme or reason. Even if you are doing your best, and you have lived up to every statute you have set up for yourself, but it falls short. That is heart breaking. But maybe things fall apart so you can be better. In whatever way. I can't tell you that tragedy is a good thing. I also can't tell you that it is or is not because of Venus' moon cycle or whatever, or because you broke a mirror and have bad luck. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Maybe diamonds and precious metals will start flying out of my ass.

I can tell you that the sooner you take responsibility for your actions, the better your life will be. If you spend all your time shouting at salt shakers and the star patterns, you will miss out on a great deal. Fix what you can fix, don't worry about what you cannot. Have a good laugh every once in a while. Life is hard, that's why nobody survives. You might as well not spend it blaming the unknown and be thankful for what you have.

Now if you'll excuse me I am going to look up what my horoscope is and eat some fortune cookies and maybe even visit a local tarot card reader or other charlatan. May you all have an abundance of good luck, you idiots.