The Lifespan of a Fly


The Light… and The Robot Overlords
April 7, 2011, 8:02 AM
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

I’m almost there. I can taste freedom and my, it tastes…. well, it tastes a little like bacon. Except maybe a little more like bacon flavoured salt rather than sizzling, greasy animal bits (did you know pigs scream when you kill them?… now you do). Anyhow, school’s almost done and it’s beginning to feel like I need to start blogging again. Now that my attention isn’t pulled in nineteen different directions.

Did I mention I’m going grey? Yeah…

So the last eight months I’ve been locked in my house, with two stupid dogs and a pile of unfolded socks to keep me company. Where did the keenness for University go that I had last year? Wait, I don’t really care. With dry, dull, determination my red pen hangs between my teeth as I correct yet another redundant sentence and comma splice (that’s a lie, I don’t even care about comma splices). But you know what? I don’t give a shit anymore, because in 11 days, I begin re-integrating myself into the working world… at least for four more months.

That little paragraph wasn’t meant to sound all pathetic and self-weepy. It was supposed to set you up a bit, so you’d be all like “what’s she talking about?”. Well, my life has been very dull. In the last eight months I haven’t seen a mother yell at her ginger kid, I haven’t met cannibalistic hillbilly, and I definitely haven’t been a normal 25-year-old. What with the booze and the boobs, and the booze.

But I have been dreaming…. a lot. Sometimes, that’s a bad thing. If I remember my dreams they’re usually pretty violent. What can I say? I have a lot of pent-up aggression and being a pacifist-vegetarian, well it’s a little hard to get it out. So I do one of two things: I go crazy bitch and piss off 90% of the people within my vicinity. Or I dream about the apocalypse, bears and elbowing people in the solar plexus.

While I slumber, the bombs drop and people die. Bears attack campers on their hikes and I jump in with my trusty crossbow and bacon salt. That’s right. Bacon-salt (check that shit out). Sometimes the Robot Overlords begin their world domination and I kick some hard, metal ass with my trust high tops (Secured for Ass-Kicking since about 1979).

And when I wake up, I feel great. I’m chipper, I sing with the stupid “greedy” birds that live in the neighbour’s tree, and I actually smile before 10:00 a.m. (granted I’m still practicing so it ends up like a grimace). I know, I sound nuts. Dreams about death, destruction and freaking bears? Who wakes up feeling great after a night of that?

Well, let’s just say that’s what I remember. The ones I don’t remember? Well apparently that’s because I’m screaming “F***ING TITS, F***ING TITS, F***ING TITS” repeatedly in my sleep.

Only my subconscious really knows what that’s about.

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