fuck it

i haven't posted for a while. i'm not sure why, but it may have something to do with a world wide conspiracy, a tainted batch of preparation H, and a kitten whose eyes are a little too shifty for my tastes. that story would take forever and i'm in the only internet cafe that allows centaurs, so i'll try to make this one quick.

i guess it all started one morning when, while brushing my teeth, i noticed that i had aged. i mean, all of a sudden, i realized that my body had aged, that it was breaking down, that i was on a crash course with lady death. the worst part about that realization was that i was using vanilla flavored toothpaste. do you know what vanilla flavored toothpaste tastes like? ass. it tastes like ass. perhaps an ass that rubbed up against a dirtier, sweater ass that had accidentally rubbed up against a third ass which smelled faintly of vanilla, but ass nonetheless.

so, there i am, contemplating my mortality and spitting into the sink when the phone rings. now, i don't pick up my phone, it's a thing, so there i am, sobbing like a cherub without a harp, vanilla ass flavored froth spewing out of my mouth, and trying to deal with the incessant ringing of the phone, while simultaneosly tending to the worst case of morning wood a t-shirted, investment banking centaur ever had to contend with, when it hits me: i'm not living to my full potential.
look, 99% of us aren't living to our full potential, but i'm not talking about that i'm watching the christian television network's call in show at 3 in the morning and the topic is "are you living up to your potential?" kind of failure. i mean, let's face it, if you're up at 3 in the goddamn morning and watching the christian television network's call in show, it's clear that you've fallen way short of your potential. that's an obvious and shallow representation of the kind of failure i'm talking about. i'm talking about we let them cancel arrested development kind of failure here people!

after coming to - there's a long byzantine chain of events occurring between the time i recognized my personal short comings and waking up covered in quail eggs and shaving cream but that's another story - i decided to hop in the shower. i'm having a good time, singing danzig's mother, when i hear a rap tap tapping coming from my commode door. stepping gingerly out of the tub, i prepare to confront whomever is out there by flexing my entire body and holding it while thinking of whistler's mother - i don't know why, but it arouses me. feeling flexed and confident that my semi would intimidate even the stoutest of men, i open the door to reveal noneother than my old friend roald dahl - the manticore, not the author. unbelievable!

it turns out that roald, who many consider the greatest mind chronicling the attic religions of korinithia especially in regards to his work on votive objects such as lamps, was offered a tenure track position at the local university. it turns out that they did not know that he was a manticore when they extended the offer. so this poor guy travels half way around the world, gets his visas, sells his belongings, etc, only to have some snotty, elbow patch wearing, mother fucker tell him that no lion with a man's head and scorpion's tail will ever teach at *********** university as long as he's the dean. can you imagine? the nerve! did roald eat a student? yes. in all fairness, it was an undergrad! he was on probation for christ's sake. did roald know that at the time? no. but, didn't kant demonstrate that intentions are devoid of moral worth? you can't lie to save someone's life and maybe, just maybe, you have to eat someone you've acidentally stung with your huge scorpion tail. if kant had a scorpion's tail who knows how the categorical imperative would have turned out.

anyway, distressed and unsure of himself, roald went down to china town and purchased a block of frozen octopus, some aloevera drink, and some lychee in the hopes that some non-pimply snacks might make him feel better. after purchasing his groceries and eating a small rat he headed over to my house where he proceeded to unveil his purchases. being a huge lychee lover i dove right in and discovered, much to my surprise, that these were the best lychee i'd ever had the pleasure of tasting!

i guess what i'm saying is, stay away from name brands and always shop at chinese grocery stores.