[un]fun size

i have had this thought on my mind for quite awhile, but halloween seems like a fitting time to share my thoughts on this particular topic. why in the world is the itty-bitty, miniature sized candy called 'fun size'?! it is anything but fun, in my opinion, more like laughable size, or tantalize size, or disappointment size, or maybe even evil size because it either torments you when you only get to eat one, or you end up eating half a bag of them because you only get a bite at a time and it's so unsatisfying that you must have another, thereby inadvertently gorging yourself on evil size candy bars. they are anything but fun, they make me want to pout.

even as a kid i realized the absurdity and irony of the name! i remember thinking to myself that if i was to make a fun size candy bar that actually lived up to it's name, it would be gigantic, like a loaf of bread or something! now that sounds like fun. and i still think along those lines. i would love to need a dolly to carry my fun size twix from the car to my house, then have a separate table dedicated to holding the thing because there wouldn't be room anywhere else.

of course, i guess in the end, my stomach would still hate me just as much whether i ate half a bag of bite-sized candies or a few servings of my body pillow-sized whatchamacallit. but this has never been about my stomach. obviously. i mean, it's candy we're talking about here, and if the stomach had anything to say about it, i imagine i wouldn't eat any of it. nay, this is about the psychological victory and excitement of having fun with candy. you can't deny that you yourself was excited over the prospect of having a piece of candy so large that you needed to wheel it in, but when you think of it, logistically, it's no different than having bags of little candies. there is just an emotional/psychological enthusiasm that accompanies the prospect of having a ridiculously large candy that, in all actuality, you probably would never even be able to finish. the whole 'your eyes are bigger than your stomach' dilemma that so plagues us whenever we walk into a grocery store hungry, or to a buffet that we end up being rolled out of by a large group of oompa-loompas.

i have come to the conclusion that perhaps there is more here than meets the eye. possibly the makers of these devious little candies know me better than i think, and they understand my love of legos and putting little pieces together to make bigger structures. perhaps they are suggesting i have some fun with their little blocks of delicious and stack them atop each other, let them sit in the sun a bit and get a little on the melty-drippy-gooey side, then gently place the whole mess into the fridge to solidify into one monster candy bar that is shaped and truly fun size!

i guess, since i hold little hope of seeing the name changed to something more realistic of its face value, i will have to content myself with this absurdly unlikely truth, and gain what joy i can from it. and now that i think of it, that actually does sound really fun.

traffic dooms the earth

i utterly hate commuting and driving in traffic (as if anyone enjoys it). i think the worst thing about it is that it makes me not want to drive at all afterwords. not even for something important, like getting food. i can just waste away on the couch, listening to the amplified fish tank in my stomach, but no amount of complaining will force me to get back in the car and get food. (this is all assuming, of course, that i am not at my own house, or that i have no food in the house, both scenarios are not uncommon.) that may seem somewhat minor, not willing to eat, but i love eating and tasty food. for something to dismay me so much as to dissuade me from even eating carries some real weight and is extremely influential. its almost kind of scary. if it could impact me so heavily as to steal the power of my raging appetite, what else could it accomplish? or not accomplish for that matter.

of course, this seeming dilemma really only impacts me, so far, and presents very little, if any, concern for anyone other than myself. or those unfortunate souls who happen to be within voice distance that i am nagging to get food for me. suppose there was some scenario in which my complete reluctance to drive would drastically impact the lives of others? and not just a few others, but all others, the entirety of mankind. what if there was a scenario that held global repercussions that hinged upon me dragging my half-dead brain back into my car and driving? perhaps some rift in the time-space continuum threatened to unravel the laws of physics at an exponential rate and the only thing that could stop it was for me to drive my car to the next city to re-balance our plane of existence. what then?! i guess that in such a situation, more than a handful of people would pay acute attention to my apathy and utter dismay. maybe then people would understand just how dangerous it is to live in a society and culture that is ok with allowing this system of transportation that constantly saps the soul from a large percentage of its denizens. the underpinnings upon which such a system is based will surely result in its own miserable demise if something doesn't change with urgency! any experience that drives a man to such extremes of indifference should gain the attention of any politician that has even the most minute truth behind his or her claims of caring for his or her constituency.

or maybe someone can just get me some in-n-out next time i'm re-sensitizing after an hour of 3 mph.

good guys vs. bad guys

i think the main difference between a good guy and a bad guy is optimism and pessimism, respectively. someone that is honorable and fights for good is the one with an unshakable view of the good in the world, and their steadfast hope in that goodness, striving forth to expand that goodness. a bad guy is a pessimist, and selfish, who can see no hope for the way things are and they way they are going. they strive to get what they can out of it. since someone will inevitably make a terrible mess of things, it might as well be them. both the heroes and the villains have the capabilities to arouse terrific and awesome acts of change, but their outlook on life and the world around them is what truly sets them apart and dictates their actions. they are the extremes at either end of the spectrum, the epitome of optimistic good or pessimistic corruption. the rest of us see varying degrees of both, and try to deal with it the best we can, struggling to maintain some sort of 'sane' balance.

since this nation is spiraling rapidly downward with no brakes, and i just want to have fun, i guess i would be a villain.

blind blessings

i think the best part of being blind would be that you wouldn't have to be afraid of the dark, ever. although, i guess, if you were afraid of the dark, then you went blind, life could be pretty stressful.

either way, i'm still glad i'm not blind. i was just trying to look on the bright side of things for blind people, since they obviously can't very well look on the bright side themselves. i wonder if that idiom holds any meaning at all for a blind person. probably not one that was born blind.

just to clarify, i am not blind. and i'm not afraid of the dark.

cloud discrimination

something i think is somewhat interesting. we can look at clouds and say, "hey, that looks like a sheep! i see a sailboat (or a schooner)!see how the one cloud goes up and over like the sails and the other cloud wisps in below it. whoa, check it out, it's a dragon riding a giant bunny while juggling baby geese!" we can sit and stare at clouds for awhile and just enjoy thinking of what they look like. so how come no one ever looks at some random object and say, "whoa, look, it looks like a cloud! see, the fluff and the puff. spot on match!" it almost like we don't want to acknowledge the existence of clouds. we go through life trying to figure out what else they could be instead of simply recognize their being!

how can such a degrading, discriminatory act of prejudice continue to sustain itself in this the united states of america, land of the tolerant and home of the equal-opportunistic?! we waged a bloody war on our own soil to disallow the notion that some men are better than others, we allow foreign empires to launch missiles at us without taking action, we permit aliens to come into our country and work our jobs while not even speaking our native tongue! and yet, we cannot allow the simple clouds their easy-going existence without taking away their dignity and robbing them of their honor. not only do we steal the very beauty of their grace and form and attribute it to another creature or object, be we encourage our children to follow suit, without ever questioning the danger our deep-seated intolerance is posing to the very actions of the future. outrageous, i cry! a true atrocity that must garner immediate efforts towards reversal and reformation!

i hereby declare that i, for one, intend to do my part to rectify the situation, and the next time i see a unicorn on a dirtbike, i'm going to say, "wow, that looks just like a cloud!"

castleman address

one score and seven years ago my father brought forth on this continent a new person, conceived in lori, and dedicated to the proposition that all hard-working men are entitled to an occupation.

now i am engaged in a great job quest, testing whether this nation, or any nation, so struggling and yet dedicated, can long endure to withhold employment from me. i am met on a great battle-field of this crusade. i have come to dedicate a portion of my time, as a final endeavor for those who here forfeit their lives for not responding to my cold-call e-mails, that this nation might survive with me pursuing that career which i so desperately seek. it is altogether fitting and proper that i should do this.

but, in a larger sense, i can not dedicate...i can not consecrate...i can not hallow this pursuit. the brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above my poor power to add or detract. the world will little note, nor long remember what i find here, but it can never forget what i searched for here. it is for me the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which needs more employees to accomplish. it is rather for me to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before me—that from these honored dead i take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that i here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new employee—and that capitalism: of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

DEPCA will rule the world

something that has always made me curious is all those little bits of dry erase marker that are left behind after you erase it. at first it seems like you can completely erase a whiteboard, but upon closer inspection, you can see little specks of dry erase particles. what are they? why do they exist? where do they go?! i must know!

despite having studied the whiteboard closely and observing it for countless hours (4 minutes), i have concluded that it is very intelligent. i know this because it is very patient, remaining completely still until i was no longer around. i think that it all gathers together in some hidden location, banding together to form DEPCA (dry erase particle conglomerate army). i'm not entirely sure what their goal in this world is. assuming their goal is on this earth and not some insane space mission to colonize distant dry erase particle friendly planets.

my best guess is the obvious, that they are gathering their strength to strike against that which threatens them the most: chalk. based on that theory, i'm gonna assume that england will be its first target, with its famous cliffs at dover. if DEPCA can control that, then they will completely cut the supply lines to the CCF (chalk coalition forces), severely crippling them.

however, due to the large amount of chalk that has already infiltrated the entire planet, the war would be far from over. DEPCA would have to play a careful, strategic game of attrition from then on, keeping a careful eye on england and not letting it be recaptured.

or maybe gravity just pushes all the dry erase particles to the ground where they are unceremoniously swept into the trash can and never heard from or seen again...

unless that is exactly what we are supposed to believe!

the duality of grey matter

after much contemplation, i have decided that two consciousnesses exist within the same brain. this seems so obviously apparent to me simply because of my dreams, or dreams in general. yes, dreams are so crazy, and the majority of the time we can't even fathom what the deuce they mean, if anything. but the real proof is in the telling of the nonsensical story during our nocturnal unconsciousness. this is what most amazes me, that during my dreams, i can, and often am, surprised in some way. whether i am shocked at some scene before me, startled by some sudden event that i was unable to predict, or just so at a loss for what is going on during my dream itself.

if you think about it, it is pretty much impossible to surprise yourself when you're awake. try it. try to test your reflexes by dropping a pencil. hold it by the eraser end with the point pointing towards the floor. then with your other hand, position your index finger and thumb near the pencil to pinch it when it plummets. try as you may, you always know when you're going to release and it rarely travels far at all before you grab it. try it with someone else and i guarantee it will be much more difficult. so when such a simple task is so impossible insofar as your own brain being able to trick itself, how is it able to send itself through such surrealistic rollercoasters while dreaming? dreams can often have some pretty twisted outcomes and unexpected events, none of which you can predict at any time during the dream. or at least your dream-self can't figure it out.

the only logical answer to me is the existence of a second consciousness. it comes to life at night and preys upon the extremely relaxed and vulnerable state of the primary consciousness. similar to how one cat will wait for another cat to be comfortably asleep before it pounces full-force. or maybe also similar to how a vulture waits until its prey is too weak to resist. it presents all these twisted scenarios and ridiculous possibilities that your primary consciousness tries desperately to keep pace with within the realistic bounds that it is used to. but it is trying to sleep and recuperate at the same time, and is therefore not so sharp. that possibly explains why you can't run when you need to most, or why you make absolutely retarded choices in dreams. ok, well, i guess i can't speak for everyone, but that's how it happens in my dreams.

i think there are times when one consciousness barges in on the other without knocking. i don't know if everyone experiences this complete oddity, but sometimes in my dream, i will remind myself that i'm in a dream and it doesn't matter. or even another character in my dream will tell me the truth of the situation and my dream-self is like, 'oh...interesting.'

what exactly is the subconscious consciousness' day job? he does a very good job of laying low, that's for sure. but i totally picture him scampering about the shadows, picking up scraps, like a homeless man. he grabs one discarded thought, image, name, conversation, holds it up to the light, squints and examines it up close, shakes it a little bit close to his ear to see if there's possibly something to use in the night's romp through WTFville. satisfied that it might come in handy, he tucks it into his cart and moves along, following the primary consciousness at a respectable distance, making sure to vigilantly take note of the things dropped along the way. he totally is a homeless person. he would be nowhere without the primary consciousness to leech off of, but the primary consciousness can never be rid of him. not that i would want that to happen anyway.

actually maybe it's more like that cousin that never made anything of his life, but still has the best stories at family get-togethers.

rodents running rampant = total eclipse of the heart

i killed another mouse late last night.

i didn't want to. really, i didn't. i even tried a few times to capture it safe and soundly so i could put it in a box then take it far away and let it go to get into someone else's house. tragically this mouse's innate ability to dodge, dip, duck, dive and dodge ultimately led to it's own untimely demise. how greek.

see, there's been a bit of a mouse problem in the house lately. this presents a rather unique dilemma and conflict inside my mind. one the one hand, i don't want mice scampering about, chewing up my stuff, defecating and urinating all over my stuff, smelling the place up worse than i do, and eventually luring in the natural predators that follow mice, namely snakes. i truly have no desire to dodge a rattlesnake on my way sleepily to the bathroom in the middle of the night. so it would appear to be pretty cut and dry as to what needs to be done: relentless eradication of every last one. however, on the other hand, i am an animal lover, to a fault. i have a special weakness for small, cute, furry little animals, probably because i had pet rodents most of my childhood and really loved them and played with them a lot. i have many cherished memories of me awesome gerbils. i had my pirate gerbil that would ride around on my shoulders, my extreme pilot gerbil that could deftly navigate our little house in one of those little plastic orbs at full-speed, etc. so when i see the cute fuzzy little bodies of mice scurrying around my room, my first thought is actually happiness. i want to play with them! i want to be their friend and have them talk to me.

alas, simple logic must win out, and i must rid the room and house of these vermin disguised as happiness. the other unfortunate thing is that the mouse traps which have been provided are probably the most inhumane way of catching a mouse possible. it is simply a index card size sticky pad, ultra sticky. one foot on it, and they're pretty much done. however, its not like a venus mouse trap, it doesn't eat them after it has captured them, it merely detains them until they starve to death, often in a rather unenjoyable position that they have managed to get themselves into due to a panic-driven struggle to escape. it is truly wicked in the sickest sense. i feel so bad when i see them, stuck in their own personal tar baby, pleading with their frenzied, horror filled eyes. its even worse when they squeak for their lives, its so pathetic and pitiful, the swan song of a mouse on death row.

because of my nature of staying up very late, i am usually awake when they rise and scamper joyfully about. ironically, this makes me the best suited to catch them, since i see where they're playing around, put a trap there, and, like clockwork, i will have captured a mouse within a minute or two.

i feel filthy, like a murderer must feel immediately afterwords. well, not a psychopathic, sadistic murderer, but an actual humane murderer who accidentally killed someone in a fit of rage or by not paying attention to the road. i had caught a few and had just thrown them away, but i could still hear them squeak. some strange, twisted version of the beating heart from poe's poem. the last one i put out of his misery before throwing him unceremoniously into the trash. i know it's just a mouse, but i still didn't like the knowledge that a few minutes before, the little bundle of lifeless fluff was once full of life and probably jovial at the prospect of a new day exploring my closet.

i guess i just say this as some weird some of therapy. until some imbalanced lunatic from peta reads this and tells me i should indeed let the animals consume my house. then this will switch from therapy to perturbed amusement tinged with mild disgust.

in the end, as much of a monster as i am, i don't think i ever would have been able to shoot old yeller.

as opposed to the wetter gnome . . .

what the deuce is up with the sock gnome in my drier?! you know of whom i speak, for i am sure you have had your own run in with him. he is the one that steals a single, solitary sock from the wash. unashamedly and remorselessly. and consistently. that devious little minion, what would he possibly want with all those socks of mine that he has stolen?!

a possible hypothesis is that the gnome (who shall be named, and henceforth referred to as, jared) is teasing me. obviously he wants me to know he is toying with my notion of control and awareness as pertains to my own laundry, and impishly imply that he is ultimately the one true sovereign authority in the realm of the laundry room. this notion seems so clear to me because, of all the items in a typical wash, he takes the one item that will be most noticeably missing, the only item that is paired with another, and is so blatantly at a loss without it's counterpart. jared could so easily take an entire shirt or some underwear, and i would forever wonder where i misplaced said article, if i even noticed its absence. yet he persists in taunting me with the conspicuous loss of one sock.

the reason he only deprives me of such a trivial item as a sock is because he can! he can easily get away with stealing socks, because of the very trivial nature of a sock. if you think about it, it's a brilliant item to steal for the sake of teasing. if it were anything more serious, it would undoubtedly attract actual attention, which would completely blow jared's cover. no gnome would actually want to be publicly discovered, accused and incarcerated, which is exactly what would happen if he started stealing cats, clarinets, cars, couches, or even designer jeans. but no, jared is very smart, and has successfully stayed under the radar for many many years by adhering to this simple ploy.

as far as the question of where does this massive stockpile of missing socks go, it is clear to me that jared eats them. he has to have something other than lints trap scraps and drier sheet cuisine to eat, especially since i don't ever run my leftover cheesy tuna casserole through the drier.

if i was smart, i'd soak an entire load of socks in anti-freeze and cyanide and toss that in the drier. but i don't know if it's worth the risk of possibly ruining all those socks.

entirely [un]realistic scenario, pt. 1

if zombies threatened the existence of all mankind, what would vampires do about it? on the one hand, vampires basically view humans as cattle, food, and have very little respect for their existence in the first place as anything apart from serving the physiological needs of the vampire kind. on the other hand, if all humans were extinct and replaced with zombies, which do not exactly offer a tasty midnight treat to a vampire, and would probably be a bit of a nuisance and possibly even a threat, would vampires feel the need to assist humans in their struggle for survival?

i think they would. regardless of the low opinion that vampires generally hold of humans, it would probably be in the best interest of vampires worldwide to ensure the survival of humans and, more importantly, the lack of existence of zombies. for starters, obviously humans would be much easier to manipulate and keep in check as they drone on in their own generally harmless 'lives'. zombies tirelessly seek to eat anything that lives and breathes and pumps blood, and would therefore create a constant and active inconvenience, if not a serious threat. and once one zombie found a vampire house, every zombie in the area would be drawn towards it. vampires would no longer be able to live in luxurious, fashionable mansions, but would be forced into impenetrable, unreachable fortresses in remote locations. its like the difference between herding cattle and herding eternally starving piranhas with an open wound.

the other reason is functionality. humans meet the needs of vampires much more completely than zombies, due in no small part to the fact that zombies are pretty much worthless to vampires. one aspect of this is food. of course vampires can create synthetic blood plasma and probably live on that and previously extracted blood for quite awhile, but i'm guessing that is the vampire equivalent to eating freeze-dried food in a bunker. vampires like to live in style, and i'm willing to bet the thought of lowering themselves to that for the rest of eternity sends an icy chill up their already frigid spines. since zombies don't actually have blood pumping through their veins, they are completely worthless in the category of food stuffs. another function that humans serve is to be used to create more vampires, essentially as potential replacements to replenish their ranks for whatever reason they might need more vampires. once again, since zombies don't use blood to sustain their parody of life, they would be unable to turn. finally, humans are often used as servants, slaves, and helpers to aid the lives of vampires. it helps to have retainers that can function in sunlight as well as do the menial work that most vampires would view as far below their regal status. even if vampires somehow managed to develop the technology to subdue zombies and bend them to the will of another, their lack of intelligence and basic motor skills would still make them far inferior to a human slave, even the most foolish.

despite the inferior stature of humans to vampires, i honestly think that vampires would be wise to assist humankind in the event of a zombie invasion/outbreak. i for one would love to watch a vampire army wage war against a mindless yet tireless horde of zombies, the ultimate matching of technique, technology, intelligence and precision versus brute force, superior numbers, and a fearless foe that is nearly impossible to stop. as it was so eloquently put in the dark knight, an unstoppable force colliding with an immovable object.

however i am open to logical debate and reasoning. feel free to disagree, but only with good reason!

culinary creation of complex composition

i love pizza. everyone loves pizza. it is a truly amazing food! it is good hot, or cold, plain, or loaded with toppings, morning or night, midnight or lunchtime, at parties or at home, it is the most versatile food i can think of. you can make it a completely balanced meal even. even when it's not amazing, it's still good.

how can something be so incredibly good? it can't possibly be a simply man-made creation or an ancient discovery native to this planet because it's taste is phenomenal. and yet, it also can't be a gift from space or from greek mythology because we continue to curiously recreate it with varying levels of success. i think it must be one of the unofficial ancient wonders of the world, kind of like a pyramid or something. it can't be officially recognized because there was never any proof leftover, similar to how's there's never much proof leftover after a modern day video game party. except we have the tell-tale cardboard boxes. i'm willing to bet there's probably some cave drawings of pizza somewhere, but we don't recognize it as pizza because they weren't in perfect circles back then. the real question is which ancient civilization blessed us with this extraordinary gift?! perhaps it was such an almighty creation that it is the true catalyst for the demise of atlantis. the raw, unharnessed birthing of the power of pizza was to overwhelming and terrific for one culture to possess in its inception, especially an ancient culture. the civilization was crushed beneath the weight of the awesomeness that it had created/discovered. fortunately for all of us, it did not fall victim to its own fresh, unbridled power, and was saved to pass on and enlighten the rest of the world, from east to west, through all generations. it may outlive us all, and no one could expect anything different.

i wonder if it can cure cancer. . .

aggravated assault or science?

what would make a normally peaceful ladybug so angry? and what would make said irritated insect vent its grievances upon my hapless finger? perhaps i was staring at it. i know some people get very bothered when someone is staring at them for too long, so i guess it makes complete sense that an arthropod could also possibly grow very uncomfortable when stared at. especially when the creature that is staring at it is about a billion times its size and could easily crush it. i guess if the moon was staring at me, i would feel a little intimidated and uncomfortable too. i still don't understand why it had to attack me though. (ok, attack may be a somewhat strong word, after all, its just a ladybug. however it could be argued that because of its normally docile and general friendly disposition, even the slightly insult could be viewed as a drastic departure from its usual character, placing it well within the definition of attack.)

in an attempt to give it the benefit of the doubt, it wasn't attacking me. it was merely performing an experiment: how will a human respond when i pinch its finger? but this still begs the question, why would a ladybug care?! i have a theory. i think that it was hired by aliens. in the interest of gathering information with the least impact possible, disdaining even the slightest hint that they are studying us (hence they view complete abduction with the utmost of contempt), they have been forced to outsource their research. of course this is a slow, laborious, painstaking process that isn't nearly as accurate as abduction, but they fear the consequences of discovery. apparently they have seen a few of our movies.

which bear is loneliest??

i kind of feel sorry for polar bears. they must be so lonely. in documentaries, its so common to see them wandering across the vast expanse of an empty frozen wasteland, all by their lonesome. really, what is there to do up there? you can only play so many games of solitaire before you start to go a little crazy. then you move on to playing war by yourself, even taking on two different personalities for the two stacks of cards. you even find yourself rooting for one stack, regardless of the fact that you will always win in the end when you play yourself. or you could say you always lose, but if no one is around, then who's to know the truth. so you might as well win.

because of this seemingly loneliness, it makes me a little happier when i see polar bears playing with other polar bears. its like, against all odds, they happened to aimlessly wander into each other. finally, someone else to play cards with!

for those poor, deprived polar bears that never manage to wander into other polar bears, they must be willing to play with just about anyone else, just as long as they can finally have someone else to play with. i imagine they would be so overjoyed, that they would even forget to break out their mad card skills that they have undoubtedly honed over years of sitting in a barren wilderness all alone.

porcelain inspiration

upon telling my girlfriend that i would like to see her wear some short shorts, she responded with the excuses that (1) it wasn't warm enough (not that that has ever stopped me) and (2) her legs are too white (as if later in the summer they will magically become tan without the sun). somehow, this inspired me, and late last night, right before i clumsily clambered into my wonderfully soft blankets, i wrote a few haikus to commemorate the need for sun.

how i wish for light
sun please kiss us with warmth
darken her white legs

beautiful porcelain
her legs await the sun's light
warmth would be nice too

longing for a tan
short shorts adorn legs so white
waiting for the sun

i remind you that i wrote them right before i went to bed, meaning that my brain was well on its way to shutting down and frosting over for a few hours.

two essentials

i'm not sure yet if this will be the sort of blog where i post many links to cool things i find and want to share or not. until i figure that out, however, i will share what i find. so, for any of you that love star wars and/or furry little critters, onward!

ancient chinese cotton candy torture

who invented cotton candy? no, more importantly, why? i am going to venture a guess and say it was satan. if you think about it, he’s the most obvious candidate. hmmm, let me back up a pinch. let’s preface this thought with a little fact: i absolutely hate cotton candy. i don’t just hate it, i loathe it, i abhor its very existence, i desire to erase it from this planet. perhaps part of the reason i hate it so much is that i have a sweet tooth and i hate deception and betrayal. there is nothing more deceptive and disappointing than this large puffy cloud of sugar, promising to overwhelm your tastebuds with sweet goodness beyond comprehension, only to be stumped when all that deliciousness flees at the first hint of moisture. this simply aggravates me, causing me to delve into the poofy goodness with reckless abandon, only to be all the more disappointed. in the end, i am entirely unsatisfied and spent from a fruitless frustration, my face and hands (and sometimes neck) are stickier than fly paper (which i am fast becoming due to the magnetic pull of sugar to flies).

it seems obvious to me that cotton candy is straight from the bowels of hell, the masterpiece of deception, the crowning achievement from a throne of lies. it is obvious that none other than satan himself could create something so devious and yet appealing, so innocent and yet so destructive.

or maybe it was a politician.

easter egg origins

i thought i would kick things off with a classic. i'm sure it will be familiar to some of you, but hopefully not all of you. a while ago, i liked to dissect natural, accepted phenomena and write what the story was behind it. here is one such example, although i will surely post more in the future. and feel free to ask me anything you would like explained.

So why in the world is there a bunny laying eggs on easter? Let us see. Well it's all tied into the forest Olympics (held yearly as opposed to every four years). All the cute, fuzzy little bunnies of course have their hare scamper event, but for added skill testing, they had to carry rocks. Well this was ok for a few years, but it wasn't much of a skill level test as a rock was only added weight. So for an added challenge, the bunnies had to carry eggs, and if they broke them, they were disqualified. These bunnies had to dash through the forest, across the field, around the swing dance competition, and to a hiding place predesignated by judges. Once the egg was hidden, they would then pick up their loudspeakers and squeal at the top of their little lungs, "I'm a little pollywog happy as can be, no other pollywog is fast as fast as me!" That would signal for the other member of their team to start their segment of the race. The foxes then ran along their course to the segment of the forest where the eggs were hidden, and then they had to find their teams egg, crack it open, scramble it, and bring it back to the judges to sample their fine cuisine. Well if the team took the wrong egg, they would be disqualified, so the bunnies got in the habit of putting small colored markings on their eggs to help the foxes find the correct egg. Although you should note that their markings were very small and faint. The whole incredibly colorful eggs of easter are just a humanization of it. As with most things, this Olympics was discovered by a small boy named josh (not me, but related) who was told by a squirrel friend of his. So Josh set out to see what this ruckus was, and set up a hiding place near the designated hiding area. Sure enough, he saw the little bunnies racing in with eggs and hiding them. He caught small dots of color on a few, and found this all quite interesting. Josh continued to watch, but the foxes, in their search for their egg, found Josh. Well this was a dilemma, make no mistake! This couldn't go public for sure, but many of the animals vouched for Josh that he was of good character. Josh promised to never tell a soul, as long as he would be invited to the annual Olympics from then on. The little boy paid tribute to his animal friends by decorating and hiding eggs once a year at the beginning of the games. This happened to fall on easter, and soon spread through the village as a tradition. Josh's secret was passed down to a trusted relative until the animals finally said the truth could be told, and the bunny part came into the whole easter celebration. Do not question, just believe.