Tuesday, May 30, 2006

The Doppleganger

When I came up with the name donteatpoop, I have to admit a awe inspiring sense of genius. It may be the pinnacle of achievement in my life. It both a screen name and a message for the masses, a code to live by. It’s almost like something Confucious would say. Words to live by, you know.

I first used “donteatpoop” when setting up practice accounts at work for e-mail addresses and what-not. It has since evolved into my screen name for infinite-story.com, worth1000, g-mail, and now here.

However, it was much to my dismay and chagrin that I discovered there is another out there parading around on Yahoo with my user name. Someone else out there is posing as me, undoubtedly in a vain attempt to feel accepted and to gain instant celebrity status. But I will not stand for it, no!

I am the only real donteatpoop. That son of a bitch is an imposter. An imposter, I tell you! Even if they came up with it first. I’m still the only one who has rights to the name? Why? Because I just said so, and they haven’t. And when they do, I still said it first.

There can be only one donteatpoop!

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not an unreasonable guy. They can keep the username at Yahoo, or whatever. It’s not like I go to yahoo or anything.

But I will not have them parading around and proclaiming my awesomness as their own.

Therefor I propose a secret password thing like the spies use. Should you ever encounter someone named donteatpoop and need to be sure you are speaking to the real one (me), you will ask said person “What color does the sun turn in the night?” and I will respond “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Saturday, May 27, 2006

When Ninjas Attack

Another fucking ninja tried to kill me yesterday. I'm really getting sick of this crap. I mean, I understand that they're upset about me killing their master, and I know they're honor bound to avenge his death, but how many members of their clan do I have to bury before they get the point? And besides, is it really my fault that he was hiding in the trash compactor? All I did was hit the button. I didn't know he was in there until I heard him scream.

To the Kenjin Clan, if any of them are reading: Please stop trying to claim vengence on me.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

I pretend

I pretend.

I pretend often. I pretend to be fun. I pretend to be entertaining. I pretend to enjoy life. I pretend to be sane.

But there’s something wrong with me. Some sort of chemical imbalance. My brief moments of joy often plunge in the darkest depths of depression. The depression will last for days, for weeks, and once for a month. The joy will last a few days at most. The only thing more common than depression is an absence of any feeling or emotion. And that is worse than all for me. The apathy makes me question my humanity.

I shouldn’t be this way. My life is good. I have parents who love me, a beautiful wife and three wonderful kids. But there is no denying the roller coaster of emotions within. I think depression would be better for me if it could somehow be justified.

It’s not so bad really. No one knows but me, and any anonymous people who may stumble upon this blog.

I keep it all inside, you see. So that no one else has to suffer along with me. If you met me, you wouldn’t even know. I joke and smile and laugh. I try to make other people happy rather than drag them down.

I’m also sort of hoping for some sort of kick back from karma.

Undead Idol

Last week I dug up three corpses in my basement. I dressed them up like the judges from American Idol. The kids and I have been performing our hearts out singing songs that don’t even get air play on the radio while that bastard Simon talks shit from his stool.

Things are really awkward now that I’ve slept with Paula.

New Shoes

When I was younger, my mother would take me to pick out a new pair of shoes from the store whenever it was necessary. It didn’t really matter which ones they were, but the moment we bought them, I had wear them home.

When we got out to the parking lot I found that I could run faster than ever before with my new shoes. With my new shoes, I could jump higher than my old shoes had allowed me to, and I could leap farther distances.

When the new shoes became worn and grew old, it was time to get a new pair.

It seems like when I buy shoes now, they cramp my toes up, or rub against the back of my foot and irritate the area back there. I can’t wait until I’m able to “break them in” so that they don’t bother me any more. It is when they are most worn and nearly falling apart that I find them the most comfortable.

My adaptability is weakening as I grow older.