Given all my "serious" posts of late, I need to lighten things up.
I recently read a lovely and enlightening article in the Huffington Post about Demonic Deville, a clown you can hire to stalk and torment your children before their birthdays. Deville will send threatening text messages, leave menacing notes, and make scary phone calls to your children to let them know the end is near. Muah ha ha ha ha (<--- evil laugh). The threats culminate with Deville throwing a pie in their faces. Here's the news article: Demonic Clown
I want to have children just so I can hire Deville to scare the bejesus out of them. Deville looks scarier and creepier than the clown from Stephen King's It. When I shared this story with my dad, he assured me that I wouldn't need to hire Deville because he would provide the service for free. Sweet. And I wonder where I get my sick and twisted sense of humor...it's been inflicted on me since I was an infant, or probably since I was in the womb. He probably read A Clockwork Orange to me as a bedtime story (and if he did, I would have liked it). For one of my dad's photography classes, he took photos of me after he or my mom threw a pie in my face. I was probably one or two, so I was defenseless against their attack. My parents have photographic evidence of this and it's displayed prominently in Grammie's den for all to see. Why would they keep such inflammatory evidence? I have since implanted my own traumatic memories of this event, but have never discussed it in therapy. Probably because I enjoyed it. Who wouldn't like a pie thrown in his or her face? And my parents claim it was more of a "gentle placement" than anything else.
On another note, a couple weeks ago my friend BB sent an email to me and some friends with the heading: "[phelan's] childhood picture." Hummm. I thought "this could be interesting" since I've known her for about 8 years and she doesn't have any childhood (aka blackmail) photos of me. Or does she? I guess childhood and blackmail photos are not one in the same. Rather than a photo, the email contained a link. Hummm. I was more intrigued. Unaware of what lurked on the other side of the link, I followed it. I found the photo below.
Oh. My. God. She's right! It was my childhood picture! I had just taken a sip of my tea, so I had a mouth full of hot liquid which I nearly sprayed all over my computer monitor because I began laughing so hard. I nearly choked, my eyes teared up, and a bit of the liquid came out of my nose, but my monitor was spared.
If you want your own zombie garden gnome, you can order it by following this link: Zombie Garden Gnome, but they're on back order so you'll have to wait. Drats!
Next to come: my (fortunately very limited) dating adventures with Jay! If you're married or otherwise coupled, you will be thankful because this dude is what awaits you in allegedly "greener" pastures. I'd rather date the zombie garden gnome than Jay.
I recently read a lovely and enlightening article in the Huffington Post about Demonic Deville, a clown you can hire to stalk and torment your children before their birthdays. Deville will send threatening text messages, leave menacing notes, and make scary phone calls to your children to let them know the end is near. Muah ha ha ha ha (<--- evil laugh). The threats culminate with Deville throwing a pie in their faces. Here's the news article: Demonic Clown
Demonic Deville
I want to have children just so I can hire Deville to scare the bejesus out of them. Deville looks scarier and creepier than the clown from Stephen King's It. When I shared this story with my dad, he assured me that I wouldn't need to hire Deville because he would provide the service for free. Sweet. And I wonder where I get my sick and twisted sense of humor...it's been inflicted on me since I was an infant, or probably since I was in the womb. He probably read A Clockwork Orange to me as a bedtime story (and if he did, I would have liked it). For one of my dad's photography classes, he took photos of me after he or my mom threw a pie in my face. I was probably one or two, so I was defenseless against their attack. My parents have photographic evidence of this and it's displayed prominently in Grammie's den for all to see. Why would they keep such inflammatory evidence? I have since implanted my own traumatic memories of this event, but have never discussed it in therapy. Probably because I enjoyed it. Who wouldn't like a pie thrown in his or her face? And my parents claim it was more of a "gentle placement" than anything else.
On another note, a couple weeks ago my friend BB sent an email to me and some friends with the heading: "[phelan's] childhood picture." Hummm. I thought "this could be interesting" since I've known her for about 8 years and she doesn't have any childhood (aka blackmail) photos of me. Or does she? I guess childhood and blackmail photos are not one in the same. Rather than a photo, the email contained a link. Hummm. I was more intrigued. Unaware of what lurked on the other side of the link, I followed it. I found the photo below.
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| Phelan's Long Lost Childhood Picture? Source: http://www.etsy.com/listing/73913334/zombie-garden-gnome-walking-dead-back |
Oh. My. God. She's right! It was my childhood picture! I had just taken a sip of my tea, so I had a mouth full of hot liquid which I nearly sprayed all over my computer monitor because I began laughing so hard. I nearly choked, my eyes teared up, and a bit of the liquid came out of my nose, but my monitor was spared.
Next to come: my (fortunately very limited) dating adventures with Jay! If you're married or otherwise coupled, you will be thankful because this dude is what awaits you in allegedly "greener" pastures. I'd rather date the zombie garden gnome than Jay.
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