Attack of the Killer Cupcake
I was fine yesterday. But at the crack of dawn I realized that I am still not what I want to be. For once yesterday, I was in delight. It was like old times. Friends…Pizza… Pepsi… and Laughs: sums up to fun. Now that’s what I am talking about people. That’s what I need. Though no one would really understand the core reason why I am often dejected and why I hate the loneliness so much, they did help me overlook my anguish for a while. Now that’s something you don’t read very often on my journal. But I wish happiness could last longer. For some reason the gloominess doesn’t give me a chance. The fucker creeps in the moment it gets a break. It’s like there is a void in me that can only be filled with the gloom and nothing else. It has become a part of me. And may be I fell empty without it. And may be I actually want it to be a part of me. That’s doesn’t make sense does it? That is satirical if you think about it. “You’re doing that to yourself, you think a lot.” you might say… “But hey, I don’t want to be like this… Okay… get it… you better do… Or Else…”
Anyways, I am trying hard to write something not gloomy... Let’s see… something happy… something different…
Okay, today on my way to work, they had these tiny muffins, well they were more like cupcakes they were just giving away at the bakery. I don't know why they do this. Do they honestly think someone's going to go up, and take a whole pastry from the counter--they always have something--and think, wow, now that I've satisfied my sugar lust, I think I'll buy a whole carton of them? Just doesn't seem like good marketing to me. Still, I took one and got it home for later. It's a dinky little thing the size of a lime, with frosting as green as one and white and red sprinkles. Obviously the baker has good taste. How ironic!!! So, I put it down somewhere, and after eating dinner, watching a Simpson’s episode, and typing this shit like crazy, and also talking to Becca and Spick, who I'm happy to hear, are doing quite well, as they have people at their place, like I mean actual human people. Anyways, I decided to save the tiny muffin thing for the morning, and just jump into bed.
I had the weirdest of dreams yesterday. Before I slept, I read this entry somewhere about this girl who dreamt she made out with her brother's friend, and she thought that was weird, but I'm willing to put my dreams up against it any day of the week. I can't even really remember them just that they were weird dreams. Makes me want to call up some Hollywood agent and book Samuel L. Jackson just to hear him say, "Man, those were some weird dreams you had, fucker."
So here’s a question for all… Does anyone have a million I could borrow?
I got up this morning and again felt like sleep had just knocked a quarter of my brain back ten million years of evolutionary progress. Had to go to work and had to push myself… and I mean literally push myself with one arm and kick myself on the butt, to work. Finally, Monday is after all over and I am now thinking that there’s nothing better than to sit on my chair only to lean back and chill to some music for a while whilst sucking down the lasty nasties out of the beer bottles out of pure desperation. It's amazing. No matter how many I buy every week, I always seem to buy one exactly one too few. If only there was some kind of home delivery service that catered to my beerish needs. I mean, I don't believe that's so much to ask for is it? Is it?
Oh someone out there heed my call! I need a beer. Tell ‘em now
Go tell ‘em. Tell them "He said he needs a beer, mother fucker. You gonna get it for ‘em, or am I gonna have to bust your ass?" - As Samuel L Jacson wud say.
You heard the man. Someone--anyone--save me from my beerless despair. Save me!
*room fills with smoke and background music hits
Da danna na da da da Da....
CM: "I'll… save you"
ME: "Crockman!"
CM: "At your service, young man."
ME: "Quick. Find me some beer."
CM: "Aha… I don’t do that kind of thing any more."
ME: "Anymore?"
CM: "Well… It was college. I was experimenting. But I'm only into soup now."
ME: "Oh come on man."
CM: "Sorry. I can bring you a nice bowl of soup though."
ME: "No man, I just want some… yeah okay."
CM: "Crockman away!"
ME: “Fucker!! Oh great, you got me going now, thanks. That's just what I need. That and a beer. But anyways...”
So I had the cupcake right, which if you didn't know had cake under it, you would think was the most magnificent display of mold build up since penicillin's discovery. I suppose I could have grabbed a white one, but I'm an equal cupcake opportunity employer. I am not a cupcakeist. And yea, that Becca told me its harmony day tomorrow. Besides, the white ones just looked wrong-if you know what I mean. I might have weird thoughts right now, and some food might work there, but jesus man, let me eat my cupcakes in peace. Is that so much to ask?
And where the hell is my soupy bowl? He's fucking Crockman. It shouldn't take this long.
*looks at window.
What the fuck?
*adjusts binoculars lenses.
"I see a truck… Its shaking…It says Karan Johar’s on the back."
Da danna na da da da Da.... CM: "You called?"
ME: "No... But now that you're here... where's my soup?"
CM: "Oh… um…" *turns around and zips up fly. " I was just…"
ME: "Look Crocko… I don't care. I just want my soup."
CM: "That's why I'm here. I heard you call."
ME: "I did not call."
CM: "You said soupy, didn't you?"
ME: "That calls you?"
CM: "But of course! I am Crockman!"
ME: "Oh. Well, so where's my fucking soup then?"
CM: "Um..."
ME: “What the hell were you doing in Karan’s truck?”
CM: “Ummm…“ *pauses as we hear Karan Johar’s truck revving up. "I'll be right on it."
ME: "Oh lord!!!"
CM: "Crockman away."
I think I'd just better get the damn soup myself. Ooh and some beer. except…fuck. I can't walk anywhere, now can I? It's spreading. It's gone up my foot now. I'm wearing some sort of cupcake boot I am. Soon it'll spread all over my body. I'll be more pastry than man. And when that happens, just know I love you one and all. There's no telling what I'll become. It's unstoppable. Don't cry for me though. No, I'll be fine. Oh god. I can feel it--it's gotten into my blood.
Oh god...the sugar. It's filling me… Oh god… i cant.. it.. oh.. no.. No.. NO... NOO!OO!OO!O!O!OO!!O!OOOOO.
Anyways, I am trying hard to write something not gloomy... Let’s see… something happy… something different…
Okay, today on my way to work, they had these tiny muffins, well they were more like cupcakes they were just giving away at the bakery. I don't know why they do this. Do they honestly think someone's going to go up, and take a whole pastry from the counter--they always have something--and think, wow, now that I've satisfied my sugar lust, I think I'll buy a whole carton of them? Just doesn't seem like good marketing to me. Still, I took one and got it home for later. It's a dinky little thing the size of a lime, with frosting as green as one and white and red sprinkles. Obviously the baker has good taste. How ironic!!! So, I put it down somewhere, and after eating dinner, watching a Simpson’s episode, and typing this shit like crazy, and also talking to Becca and Spick, who I'm happy to hear, are doing quite well, as they have people at their place, like I mean actual human people. Anyways, I decided to save the tiny muffin thing for the morning, and just jump into bed.
I had the weirdest of dreams yesterday. Before I slept, I read this entry somewhere about this girl who dreamt she made out with her brother's friend, and she thought that was weird, but I'm willing to put my dreams up against it any day of the week. I can't even really remember them just that they were weird dreams. Makes me want to call up some Hollywood agent and book Samuel L. Jackson just to hear him say, "Man, those were some weird dreams you had, fucker."
So here’s a question for all… Does anyone have a million I could borrow?
I got up this morning and again felt like sleep had just knocked a quarter of my brain back ten million years of evolutionary progress. Had to go to work and had to push myself… and I mean literally push myself with one arm and kick myself on the butt, to work. Finally, Monday is after all over and I am now thinking that there’s nothing better than to sit on my chair only to lean back and chill to some music for a while whilst sucking down the lasty nasties out of the beer bottles out of pure desperation. It's amazing. No matter how many I buy every week, I always seem to buy one exactly one too few. If only there was some kind of home delivery service that catered to my beerish needs. I mean, I don't believe that's so much to ask for is it? Is it?
Oh someone out there heed my call! I need a beer. Tell ‘em now
Go tell ‘em. Tell them "He said he needs a beer, mother fucker. You gonna get it for ‘em, or am I gonna have to bust your ass?" - As Samuel L Jacson wud say.
You heard the man. Someone--anyone--save me from my beerless despair. Save me!
*room fills with smoke and background music hits
Da danna na da da da Da....
CM: "I'll… save you"
ME: "Crockman!"
CM: "At your service, young man."
ME: "Quick. Find me some beer."
CM: "Aha… I don’t do that kind of thing any more."
ME: "Anymore?"
CM: "Well… It was college. I was experimenting. But I'm only into soup now."
ME: "Oh come on man."
CM: "Sorry. I can bring you a nice bowl of soup though."
ME: "No man, I just want some… yeah okay."
CM: "Crockman away!"
ME: “Fucker!! Oh great, you got me going now, thanks. That's just what I need. That and a beer. But anyways...”
So I had the cupcake right, which if you didn't know had cake under it, you would think was the most magnificent display of mold build up since penicillin's discovery. I suppose I could have grabbed a white one, but I'm an equal cupcake opportunity employer. I am not a cupcakeist. And yea, that Becca told me its harmony day tomorrow. Besides, the white ones just looked wrong-if you know what I mean. I might have weird thoughts right now, and some food might work there, but jesus man, let me eat my cupcakes in peace. Is that so much to ask?
And where the hell is my soupy bowl? He's fucking Crockman. It shouldn't take this long.
*looks at window.
What the fuck?
*adjusts binoculars lenses.
"I see a truck… Its shaking…It says Karan Johar’s on the back."
Da danna na da da da Da.... CM: "You called?"
ME: "No... But now that you're here... where's my soup?"
CM: "Oh… um…" *turns around and zips up fly. " I was just…"
ME: "Look Crocko… I don't care. I just want my soup."
CM: "That's why I'm here. I heard you call."
ME: "I did not call."
CM: "You said soupy, didn't you?"
ME: "That calls you?"
CM: "But of course! I am Crockman!"
ME: "Oh. Well, so where's my fucking soup then?"
CM: "Um..."
ME: “What the hell were you doing in Karan’s truck?”
CM: “Ummm…“ *pauses as we hear Karan Johar’s truck revving up. "I'll be right on it."
ME: "Oh lord!!!"
CM: "Crockman away."
I think I'd just better get the damn soup myself. Ooh and some beer. except…fuck. I can't walk anywhere, now can I? It's spreading. It's gone up my foot now. I'm wearing some sort of cupcake boot I am. Soon it'll spread all over my body. I'll be more pastry than man. And when that happens, just know I love you one and all. There's no telling what I'll become. It's unstoppable. Don't cry for me though. No, I'll be fine. Oh god. I can feel it--it's gotten into my blood.
Oh god...the sugar. It's filling me… Oh god… i cant.. it.. oh.. no.. No.. NO... NOO!OO!OO!O!O!OO!!O!OOOOO.