I was once asked "Where do you stand with regard oral sex?".........
...........I replied: Generally in the bedroom with my knees slightly bent.
Gather around children and let me tell you a tale that will chill your hearts and perhaps make you pray to your chosen deity that extreme violence, possibly administered using a stout stick, may be visited upon my person.
Our tale begins, as so many do, on what seemed to be an ordinary day. The sun was well on it's way to breaking through the overcast sky. We cut to our hero, a young man of 21 years who appears, as heroes so often do, unremarkable on the outside. We shall call this young man Andrew (that is his name after all) although any shortenings are acceptable. He is entirely unaware that today is the day that destiny will grab him by the collar and give him a good shake. As this is Monday and Andrew is a traditionalist, he is dressed as Zorro.
(No, I don't get that bit either)
Our hero sits staring at the computer screen puzzled by just what to write in the "Skills Profile" section of his CV. His train of thought is derailed by a high pitched ringing noise. "Great Caeser's Ghost!" he exclaims, startled by this. Being a man of stern constitution, recovery is swift. Andrew recognises this noise as the "telephone" bidding for his attention. Using his considerable skill he deftly plucks the receiver from the base and pushes the key with the little green phone icon on it and says:
"Hello?"
Nothing could have prepared our hero for the raspy evil voice which replied. If you can imagine Yoda smoking 40 a day for 567 years then you're still nowhere near and have just wasted your time.
"Isthatthedentis?" (See? Speaking in tongues! Evil!)
"I'm sorry?"
"Is that the dentist?"
"No, you've got the wrong number."
"Terrible sorry."
"No problem."
True story.
At this point I'd like to remind you that it is often said (by those who say it often) that:
a)not enough people dress their children as knights
b)or themselves as bishops
So...yeah...anyway, in real life I'm doing okay. Things are getting easier, it's not a struggle to get out of bed anymore and stuff like that. I'm suprised how quickly I seem to be clawing my way back up. I feel guilty that I'm bouncing back while other people struggle with depression for so long. I'm still on the down side of the mood-o-meter but things aren't as bad as they were. It's hard to believe that I came so close to ODing less than a week ago. It seems like I won't have to go on anti-depressants, which is a major victory in my opinion.
I think more of my entries will be like this. It's easier for me to write honestly after I create a bit of mad shit. Opinions wanted, particularly if the weird shit annoys you.
Love
Andrew
Gather around children and let me tell you a tale that will chill your hearts and perhaps make you pray to your chosen deity that extreme violence, possibly administered using a stout stick, may be visited upon my person.
Our tale begins, as so many do, on what seemed to be an ordinary day. The sun was well on it's way to breaking through the overcast sky. We cut to our hero, a young man of 21 years who appears, as heroes so often do, unremarkable on the outside. We shall call this young man Andrew (that is his name after all) although any shortenings are acceptable. He is entirely unaware that today is the day that destiny will grab him by the collar and give him a good shake. As this is Monday and Andrew is a traditionalist, he is dressed as Zorro.
(No, I don't get that bit either)
Our hero sits staring at the computer screen puzzled by just what to write in the "Skills Profile" section of his CV. His train of thought is derailed by a high pitched ringing noise. "Great Caeser's Ghost!" he exclaims, startled by this. Being a man of stern constitution, recovery is swift. Andrew recognises this noise as the "telephone" bidding for his attention. Using his considerable skill he deftly plucks the receiver from the base and pushes the key with the little green phone icon on it and says:
"Hello?"
Nothing could have prepared our hero for the raspy evil voice which replied. If you can imagine Yoda smoking 40 a day for 567 years then you're still nowhere near and have just wasted your time.
"Isthatthedentis?" (See? Speaking in tongues! Evil!)
"I'm sorry?"
"Is that the dentist?"
"No, you've got the wrong number."
"Terrible sorry."
"No problem."
True story.
At this point I'd like to remind you that it is often said (by those who say it often) that:
a)not enough people dress their children as knights
b)or themselves as bishops
So...yeah...anyway, in real life I'm doing okay. Things are getting easier, it's not a struggle to get out of bed anymore and stuff like that. I'm suprised how quickly I seem to be clawing my way back up. I feel guilty that I'm bouncing back while other people struggle with depression for so long. I'm still on the down side of the mood-o-meter but things aren't as bad as they were. It's hard to believe that I came so close to ODing less than a week ago. It seems like I won't have to go on anti-depressants, which is a major victory in my opinion.
I think more of my entries will be like this. It's easier for me to write honestly after I create a bit of mad shit. Opinions wanted, particularly if the weird shit annoys you.
Love
Andrew