DarkSpear

I hate eat-all-you-cans, mainly because the prospect of having bottomless eats can be daunting for my plans to lose weight.
Especially if I’m on the losing end of the weight-loss war and would
like to win a small battle every now and then. So I try to avoid
occasions that entail eating lots, making up excuses about saving an
obscure country in Africa from the machinations of a tyrant or
something like that. Whatever.

But it was my grandfather’s birthday last Sunday, and despite my
protestations, I had to show up and wage another battle of wills
against the buffet table.

So after making niceties with my relatives, I grab a plate and head
off to the buffet table. The buffet table stares at me menacingly, and
taunts me with cries of “You will never be able to resist my charms,
you weak human glutton!”
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   So maybe I’ve been  little too harsh on my inner child the first time I ran into him. It is, after all, his first appearance on the internets,
so he must be nervous and all. So to make up for the trauma I caused
him,  I’m giving him some time to talk to me in this blog.

ME: So ladies and gents, here’s my Inner Child, who is awesome and all. What do I call you by the way?
INNER CHILD: Larry.
ME: Larry?
INNER CHILD: You got a problem with that, buddy?
ME: No.
INNER CHILD: Good.
ME: Geez, somebody’s touchy today–
INNER CHILD:
How would you feel if you didn’t get to buy cotton candy for today? You
and your “Cotton candy can wait, we have to be on the blog ASAP”. You
and your immature blog obsessions.
ME: But I said we can buy cotton candy later… um… Larry.
INNER CHILD: So why am I on this stupid blog anyway?
ME: Well, you first do as I do–
INNER CHILD: Make a fool out of myself and make everyone remotely associated with me hate my entire existence?
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Funny thing about going through a lot of emoness and change: you
tend to think more. Also, in thinking more, I tend to become less
retarded and - dare I say it - introspective. So laugh at me all you
want, but I actually want to write something that makes sense for once.
Sort of.

So dear reader, join me as I look inside myself, and make that journey for me to discover who I am.

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Being thrust into singlehood recently after two years of
awesomeness, I started dating again. And here’s what I realized: I have
no absofuckinglutely no idea how to deal with women. I can’t talk to
them without the awkward moment of silence with the ominous “somebody’s gonna get slapped with a restraining order and possibly be thrown into prison and buttraped by twenty convicts later” feeling.

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I’ve been through so much depression this week that I’m starting to
become like those emo kids I’ve made fun of in Down the Highway. Also,
I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a few notches away from becoming a
mysoginist like resident TMB Woman-Hater Squid.
Given a little more time, I just might start punching pregnant women in
the stomach just like he does. I’d be a total woman-hater already if
women aren’t good for secks and making sammiches. But I digress.

This is not a picture of Squid

Anyway, I’m blaming much of my emoness to Steel, who has been acting like a douchebag lately. He also looks like a hobo. I plan on taking out my frustrations by punching the shit out of pregnant women who look like him.

Emo Rant #1: Ninjas
Ninjas are the pits. They like to hang around in trees, biding their
time as I pass by, then they jump on me with their shurikens and they
to poison my coffee at the most inopportune times. Of course I am
forced to kill them ninjas every chance I get. Also, they wear black.
They’re like emo. And that makes me sad. =(

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