Friday, 11 May 2012

The Seven Deadly Sins


On my previously mentioned breakfast with Chloe and Dee, part of the conversation was directed towards the seven deadly sins. How did this happen, you ask?

Well, Chloe goes “I wonder if I’ve committed any sins lately…” while in this exact situation:

 **she was eating off all the plates**

Uh yeah there, champ. You’re committing a sin right now… GLUTTONY.
And then of course, the hot manager man that kept ninja’ing out of photos kept walking by causing her to go bright red and slouch down in her seat, so that’s LUST.

She also had problems getting out of her PJs until 1pm that day, so we’re looking at SLOTH.

That’s right. 12 years old and committed at least THREE deadly sins in less than an hour.

Flash to me. 28 years old and probably committing all 7 sins on a regular basis… Let’s see:
Sloth: I go to work looking like a fucking hobo on a regular basis so I can squeeze an extra 15 min of sleeping in. That’s right. I “could” do my hair and put on make up, but screw that noise. I’d rather look like a bag lady and have gotten my 15 min of extra bed time than go that extra mile in my appearance. Also, notice I haven’t drawn pictures lately and have been using real photos? That’s because I’m fucking lazy and don’t want to put forth the effort of drawing stick figures at the moment.

Lust: Due to the fact that there are minors that read my blog, I shall say I do have this sin in spades. IN SPADES with the shit that goes on in my head. And we will leave it at that. This sin alone has probably purchased me a one way ticket to Hell. But oh man it’s friggin’ worth it…

Greed: I have like, 17 game systems, games included. I play *maybe* 9 of them, if that. But I cannot get rid of them because the thought of other people having them irks me. Someone could point a gun at my head one day and be like “LISTEN BITCH! I WILL SHOOT YOU IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME A SEGA GAME GEAR RIGHT NOW!!!” See? I may need a neo geo pocket colour hand held gaming device at some point, and fuck you all if I’m going to look stupid on that day because I gave it away thinking it wouldn’t be useful.

Gluttony: I don’t eat frequently, but when I eat, I will eat until it hurts to breathe. And trust me, this is a feat. I reject so much food it’s ridiculous. Take pancakes for instance. I hate the edges. HATE THEM.
The perfect pancake:



The rejected part:



Please note that that is cream cheese icing on the pancake, not something else, regardless of what it looks like.

Me: Hey Dee, you know what this looks like?

Dee: uh.. oh… oh dear… yes…

Chloe: What? What does it look like?

Me: Yeah, Dee! What does it look like???

Dee: Uh… rotten milk… Yes. Rotten milk.

Me: Yeah. Good save…

Once I’ve finished eating, I will accuse the person or persons that were with me for being shitty supervisors and allowing me to eat too much, therefore my stomach aches are entirely their fault and I am blameless.

Wrath: Yeah. I will fucking cut you. Because I’m like that.

Pride: I talk about how awesome I am all the time. ALL the time. I may not be hot, but hellz ya my personality and skills are so amazing it’s ridiculous. Plus I’m insanely smart. Sad story is I’m insanely not motivated to do anything. I’m a genius who lacks ambition. This could be sloth AND pride, but that requires too much effort to go back and edit it.

Envy: This may be the only sin I don’t commit on a regular basis. I’m too much of a catty jerk to be envious of people. Unless they have lots of money. Or babies. Or lots of money AND babies. Then I’m all up in the envious business.

So I am all coated in a coat of sin. A Sin-Coat, if you will….



If I’m already going to hell anyway, might as well eat some fucking pancakes along the way!

Sunday, 6 May 2012

Dinner with Neil


I recently went out for dinner with one of my best friends. A majority of the meal was spent with Neil wearing this face:



Why yes, that is the look of being unimpressed. It started with my giving him a present I made myself:

video


The fact of the matter is I made it different by eating the cherry, and the polite thing to do is frigging accept my gift. Jerk.

Neil is also the one that stated, “I am so glad you don’t drink or do drugs because the shit you say and do sober is hard enough to explain…” as well as “to define your craziness would be to compare it to something equally as crazy. That doesn’t exist.”

The dinner conversation ranged from things like the great cherry debate to:

Neil: Why the fuck do you say “yo” so much now!

Me: Because I’m ghetto.

Neil: Your father was a surgeon! You’re the least ghetto out of all of us!

Me: Don’t make me cut you.



That’s right. I threatened him with a butter knife. Then realized it was facing the wrong way… So then changed to a more threatening stance:



I may not seem too threatening, but I’ll fuck you up, yo. Butter knife or no butter knife, surgery is in my blood.

Near the end of dinner, Neil said one more beautiful grain of knowledge:

You know, sometimes I think killing you and disposing of the body would be a LOT of work. But in the long run it’s not as much work as being your friend…

I love you Neil.