Category: Journal

There is never enough light in the day. There is never enough light in the night, for that matter, either. This fact is more noticeable on a night when it’s a new moon. Be very cautious during a new moon because not only is it extremely dark, but that’s also when legend has it wolves turn into werehumans. Never under any circumstances do you want to be bitten by one of them, or you might start doing crazy things like wearing clothes and paying taxes. I don’t know about you, but I enjoy going around in the nude and haven’t had any tax collectors at my door for years. I’m not sure why. Perhaps others think there is too much light in the day when I do that.

In all seriousness, though, there are many things to like about the night. The perfect time to get to first base is when it’s pitch black. However, when stealing a kiss, check it’s your girlfriend and not a skunk. Although, I’m sure skunks make good kissers. Pepé Le Pew, need I say more? It’s just that, in the dark, it’s hard to be sure it’s a skunk, not a cat with white stripes painted down its back. No cat is going to get my tongue! In any case, you better beware because if you feel her nibbling on your ear, it just might be a werehuman instead.

Another great thing about the night is nightmares. Where would we be without those? Am I right? Once, I had this nightmare. I was transformed into a werehuman and hit by a car while chasing a fire truck. Ever since, I’ve been afraid to commit arson anymore, fearing that the dream might come true. I ask you: Now, who will make sure there’s enough light in the day, let alone the night?

When I was a kid, I wore No Fear T-shirts. Ironically, as an adult, I now fear many things, even getting a stain on my shirt. Whenever I find myself in even the slightest of conflicts, my fight or flight instinct kicks in, and I almost always opt to jump on a red-eye flight over getting a black eye. I will take a trip to just about anywhere besides the grocery store to fetch a bag of frozen peas to prevent my eye from swelling. Furthermore, everyone knows when you have a black eye that only black-eyed peas work. Thanks to recent supply shortages, who knows if they will have any in stock. Whenever I need to go to the supermarket, there is always a certain level of apprehension that goes along with it because you never know who you will bump into. If you bump into the wrong person, they might give your other eye a matching shiner. Another reason I dread going to the store is that I suffer from an eyes-are-bigger-than-my-stomach condition, which is only worsened by the fact that they are both already swollen at this point. Now, since I didn’t submit to my natural tendency toward chicken-heartedness, I’m buying black-eyed peas, a whole chicken, and a 10-pound burlap sack full of potatoes to go along with it. After said shopping spree, and with the rising cost of groceries, comes the worry that I will not be able to pay my bills for the month. Now, instead of a No Fear T-shirt, you might see me wearing the burlap sack with two raccoon eyes digging through your trash can. That is definitely something to fear.

You should never start off on the wrong foot, you should only start off on a couple of wrong inches at most. Furthermore, why do we call it a foot when the majority of people’s feet are under a foot in length? It is kind of misleading unless, of course, you wear a size fourteen shoe. Oh well, I guess if the shoe fits, right? I know, I know. I promise this won’t turn into some kind of running gag. I can’t promise, however, that this won’t turn into a walking joke though. I like to keep souvenirs and gifts from girlfriends in a shoebox. I’m sentimental like that. Not that I’m sure there’s really any other way to be sentimental. Anyway, I keep these mementos and such from a girlfriend in the shoebox, even though a lot of times, said girlfriend will end up walking all over me. See? I said I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t make a walking joke. One time, after one of these particularly pedestrian girlfriends had paraded all over me, I decided to set fire to the shoebox. Now that’s what I would call not only starting off but ending off on the wrong foot too.