I’m Probably Already Dead—That Would Explain a Lot

 

I’ve said before that if you ever see I’ve skipped a post you should assume I’ve been killed by spiders—because it is 100% reasonable to assume it will be the spiders that kill me someday.  I know this because they are out to get me; yes, I have proof and no, I don’t want to talk about it.  That’s not what we’re here for today.

(IT Crowd) Morris Moss pulls out bucket of popcorn and blue soda, excited for story time. "Ok. Ok... GO!"

 

It turns out, I was wrong. 

 

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My Unexamined Life

 

Okay, this is the last moving-related post.  I swear.  And it’s barely a moving post, since I’m not going to talk about the boxes that are the bane of my existence or how I still haven’t found my shampoo.  It’s cool, I’ll just buy more.

 

It’s just… remember the brain crabs? 

 

The ones we killed off when I, you know, found a place to live and totally pulled off this move even after everything went pear-shaped at the last fucking minute?

 

Turns out they’re armor-plated and radioactive. 

Glowing, radioactive cartoon crab with laser cannons for eyes

And they’re mutating.

 

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We’re STILL the Worst

 

My brain, normally full of ferrets, is now filled with pinching, angry crabs all screaming the same thing.

 

“YOU’RE GOING TO BE HOMELESS IN A STRANGE CITY!”

masses of red crabs marching across the sand and forest in their annual migration

“You know what the problem is?  You’re too picky!  And you’re looking on the wrong sites!  And you haven’t tried ALL the paid services!  Oh, you’d better check zillow again—it’s been almost five minutes!”

 

Fucking brain crabs. 

 

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The Real Me

 

Being a person who sees the humor in everything, and can laugh at just about any situation, I read a lot of humor—both because I’ll find the funny bits of something that is only incidentally funny and because I seek out the writings of funny people.  Thus I often find myself wondering what it must be like to know them personally; I imagine their spouse must constantly be in stitches, their friends and family must tell everyone that they know just the funniest person alive, etc.

Robin Williams and his animated Disney character, the Genie, smile back to back

Sort of like how kids assumed Robin Williams was basically Genie in real life, minus some of the magic.

 

This explains why I resisted blogging for so long, and resisted the idea of calling it a humor blog for longer still: in my mind a humor writer was someone who must be dazzling in person, always “on,” entertaining in every moment and aspect of their lives.  The sort of person who couldn’t go for a drink without having an adventure, who would go for a walk and end up in the wrong country.   

 

You know how it turned out, because you’re here: at the nagging insistence of a few beloved friends, I did the thing and here we are and you know I’m glad.  But… I still worry that I’m not quite in the mold, you know?

 

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