The Way My Mind Works Part One

With the Evil robots only (months? weeks? days?) from beginning their horrible reign of steel-jacketed terror, I’ve made a promise to take better care of myself. It’s time to lay off sugar, caffeine, and fatty foods–and, in my case, it’s also time to lay off sour gummi worms, de-vegetabled egg rolls (pretty much just the deep-fried outer layer), butterscotch pudding skins, grape pixie stix powder, leftover pizza dipped in BBQ sauce, blue-agave tequila shooters (with the worm), Scooby Doo Cherry Sherbet Push-Up’s, the occasional Vicodin, and Kool SuperLong’s. It’s also time to pay more attention to my mental health, as well. So, I’ve begun a little journal to track the more disturbing elements of my mental plumbing. This is the first attempt, playfully titled “The Way My Mind Works-Part One”… 


CAUSE: Awakened by neighbors, fighting.  SUBJECT OF THEIR FIGHT: “Why are you sleeping with (name) ? You’re Such A Slut! I hate you!” NOTE: (name) was NOT “Gregory Purvis”.

Apparently, anger is capable of producing some rather interesting mental side effects. Some are possibly even healthy. Anger may also be sexy. This may be related to anger utilizing testosterone either as a sort of fuel or as a flammable by-product. Girls seem to like (roaring) fires. They are ‘romantic’ for some reason. So far, anger has produced the following personal results today:

1. Immediately after leaving the house (enraged), I got two (2) “Come Hither” looks, from attractive females. A ‘come hither look’ is semiprofessionally defined as “a look of smoldering passion that (may) include: batted eyelashes, ‘twinkling’ eyes (NOTE: drugs can also cause this; stay away from girls on drugs who ‘twinkle’), a coy smile, uncontrollable playing with hair, and a certainty (on the recepient’s part) that the ‘look’ really meant one of the following: a. she wants me; b. she wants me, like, so bad! and/or: c. i think she mighta wanted me.

this particular ‘come hither’ incident led to: (with a one hour delayed reaction) “Damn! I shoulda said something to that girl! Why didn’t I say something to that girl?” and then: “Was I still mad when she looked at me? Did I growl at her? Did she call the police or tell her girlfriend she thinks I’m creepy? Or did she like it cause I was mad? No. She probably thinks I’m creepy.” and finally: “Why didn’t I say something to that girl?”

Of course, I do possess a strong animal magnetism. However, this also suffers from a (slight) delayed reaction before it is effective. For me, animal magnetism (post-delay) means: “a supernatural ability to cause women to think of sudden, strongly masculine, virile mental images–such as: a roaring lion (a roaring MALE lion; note to self: do female lions roar? i do not know. they might. research.), OR that same (once-roaring, now dead) lion’s fur, spread before a (roaring?) fire in a cozy Swiss chalet, OR a frosty mug of Swiss Miss Cocoa Mix. It would have to be the sugarless kind, though, because I’m diabetic. And maybe the “frosty” is for rootbeer, now that I think of it. Seems like cocoa is served hot. Like the (roaring) fire. 

(other “Come hither look” notes: Second ‘come hither look’ was directed at girl in question’s boyfriend, directly behind me–NOT at me, as I incorrectly initially assumed. response: shame.)

2. (Almost) a fight. This (almost) fight resulted from the boyfriend of the girl who I THOUGHT had given me a “meaningful” come-hitheresque stare, in Aisle 4 of the grocery store. However, as I was enraged (still), the young man decided to pursue the easier prey (Minute Maid frozen orange juice concentrate).

I am a war god.

3. Made four (4) elderly people, a small Mexican child, and the check-out lady (who was really a 40-ish long-haired guy wearing two pins on his lapel: one said, “HAVE A BRIGHT SUNSHINEY DAY FOR THE LORD!, the other said, “I (heart) HANNAH MONTANA!”) umcomfortable; the Mexican child actually began crying.

I felt guilty about the first five, and thought the last one was funny. I started crying.

4. I drove (on average) 7.5 miles per hour faster than my non-enraged state speed.

5. When I returned to the apartment, the neighbors that caused all this were leaving with their demonic child.

I scowled at the child, sending her anger energy in (I hoped) a massive wave. I figured if I had made one innocent child (and myself) cry because of her parent’s anger, then maybe I could make her cry, too.

She laughed.

“Mommy, that man is crying!”

Oh how I hate my neighbors.

(after-effects of anger: 1. I now look like a psychotic weenie to one child, and have made another child cry and (possibly) hate white people. 2. i hate my neighbors. 3. number two actually doesn’t count, because I hated them before they made me angry. 4. I took a nap, because all of that emotional energy made me exhausted. 5. Anger is sexy=true. In my mind, I am the sexiest man alive.)



  1. Nice post. Made me laugh. I fully empathise. You might enjoy this story from the other side of the pond:

  2. Your blog is interesting!

    Keep up the good work!

Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

  • Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.