the root of all evil

This blog came into being because I'm a damn epileptic.

Which is offensive (probably) to anyone who is actually epileptic because I'm not, in fact, a real epileptic.

And now you are going ---howisthatevenremotelycooltosay----

It is relevant. I am a fake epileptic because sometimes, a lot of times, I freak slap out. I shake, in a crack addict who ran out of money and tried to smoke Smartees (don't pretend you don't remember smartees, if i knew how to hyperlink i'd help you. if you don't know, please google, until i can become a slightly less inadequate blogger) kind of way. And I feel epileptic. Colors sort of explode. It's not a hallucination, trust me I checked. It's more an, I'm dramatic and tweaking in an absolutey non-traditional drug-withdrawal and/or drug overdose sort of way. I don't even do drugs.

I have this other blog (this is the part where if i were even remotely adequate i'd be able to hyperlink my blog to that pretty little blog, but since I can't I'll be awesomely archaic and do this: thatprodigalchild.blogspot.com ) and it's awesome, in an mildly, angsty, twenty-something deep, almost existential, figuring myself out kind of way. But this other blog gives me a complex. I love it, it helps me be all self-searching and inrospective in ways you would never even BEGINNNNNNNN to imagine upon actually meeting me. It's nice. It's the 20 year old secret-romantic version of a dragshow only minus the sparkles, (which I don't mind, I hate sparkles), the Aretha ( but you can sock it to me anyway) and i don't have to take off my boobs when i get home, which is so nice, because they are on pretty solidly.

The problem with the prodigal child is that the figurey-outy, growing up right before your very eyes version of me is making the me that likes jokes about pirate's balls* feel pretty much like the drag queen who still stuffs with Kleenex and tries to offer Mynerva my wet 'n' wild eyeshadow, only to be most. brutally. shot. down.

Not my favorite.

So, this in conjunction with the Devil - InCarnate (ex-bf who shall heretofor be referred to as the DIC imsoclever) had me feeling all epileptic-y. I needed a time and place to celebrate my petty annoyances, childishness, estrogen/chocolate/coffee fueled rants, my poop/pirate's balls jokes, and my other psychotic behaviors in general. I mean, I can't be evolving and GROWING as a person all the time, it's exhausting.

So then I was watching Buffy the Vampires Slayer and this very short awkward guy did a spell to augment himself. Which sounds INCREDIBLY pleasant for the love prospects of said short awkward guy, and delightfully dirty, but it's not. He make himself just generally AMAZEBALLS and altered reality entirely for everyone and even made Buffy look like a stick of string cheese, which, pfff, is HARD. Anyways, in order to balance this power of good, the spell automatically created a gross long armed demon who had the skin tone of a baby gerbil, and bad the-hills-have-eyes teeth, and a gandalf beard, which made him look alarmingly like he would bring fireworks to a hobbit birthday party (don't judge me because I make Lord of the Rings references).

Basically to make the world even steven he had to make the antithesis of everything good, and let it wander around Sunnydale. Because if Buffy killed the demon, shorty mcawkward shrank back to his regular old self (metaphorically, if the regular augmenty sort of parts were augmented, no one ever discussed it)

The moral of the story is, in life, as in the Buffyverse, the balance must be maintained.
If I'm going to be all neat and poetic over there ( thatprodigalchild.blogspot.com incaseyoumisseditbefore) then I get to be long armed and beardy over here. Or something like that.

I know, I'm weird.

Welcome to Creeperville.

* -- A pirate walks into a bar. The bartender says, "Do You know there's a steering wheel in your pants?"

The pirate says, "Arrgggh, and it's drivin me nuts" :) you're welcome.