- Running with Scissors
Friends, Enemies, the fataly insane, gather round, and let us deliberate one of life's more amusing mysteries. You would agree that some things are weird; eyes out of people's sockets, half a billion piercings on someone's genitals, gravity (like, apple falling?! lol!), death by gravity (like, people falling?! lol!), defying gravity (like, upthrust?! lol!) , or how i introduced this entry with a wall of words completely unrelated to what i'm about to say.
Then there are things that arn't just weird. The extremely weird. The inexplicitly weird. The unbelievably and unexplainable weird. Things that penetrate a whole new level of weird. An entirely fresh dimension of weird. An weird that threatens to tremble and quake, confuse and befuddle, on a massive, worldwide scale. In a word, weirder.
Days ago my mother, peace-loving and ghandi-like woman that she is, stormed into my room with what sounded like the entire foreign legion. Shouts, screams and cries that emulated battle trumpets and command drums. She stormed into my room, scissors in hand, threatening to cut my hair.
Threatening. Oh but that's just the tip of the iceberg, my friends.
You'd think a woman on serious medication wouldnt have to energy to do something so insane and bizaare, and pointless. But lo and behold; Nay, nein and no. I've got a mom whom i had to disarm (yes, i had to use a disarming move on my own mother) to obtain a scissors which she had brought dangerously close to my FACE and EYES, a mother who also threatened to sneak up on me while i was sleeping like bloody sadako and cut my frindge off.
How can a woman, who i was carrying around on my back that same day because she had twisted her ankle, appear to have the agility of a million highly trained Bruce Lee clones in her attempt to ensure i look like Jet Li in 'FEARLESS'. It doesnt make sense.
Again, i had to disarm my mother. DISARM. my MOTHER. Do you know who you learn disarms for? You learn them for thugs, bengs, evil ninjas or rogue transformers, who'd come from behind you with iron bars, parangs, pistols, and disintegrating rays. They would threaten to hurt you if you dont silently surrender your girlfriend or furby to them so they can have THEIR way on HER ass.
Not a nice prospect.
But no. My mom rampaged in like Jack the Ripper, blades a snipping, in a mad and frenzied attempt to rid me of my hair. MY HAIR, of all things. You'd expect mothers to take your wallet. You'd also expect pickpockets to take your wallet. Like in the movies, when Jason crashes into a bedroom chainsaw a-blazing, and aims to cut off every bloody appendage on his victim's body. They dont teach you how to defend against hair strikes in Kenjutsu, Karate, or Aikido. You never see a black belt tell his pupils, "Well little grasshopper, if you see them go for your fringe, perform a cross block. And your sideburn, a knife block."
but i digress, of course. I guess you're never really prepared for every scenario. Who really knows. How could the Power Rangers have predicted that their 100% evil enemy would attack on a weekly basis from 8-9 am?!
One day they're gonna run out of plotlines. They're gonna come up with a villian who would rule the world with skills from his days in the barber shop. He would use a gigantic hairclip to secure the hero to a chair as he divulges his secrets for world domination. But he's not just gonna make people bald, oh no. Thats to simple. It has to be more devious. More sinister. More specific.
He's gonna find someway to keep humanity under his grasp by cutting off the fringes of every poor soul on the planet. And this bizaare but elborate scheme will come so swiftly, so unexpectedly, people would be looking like Mao before they could say the word "trichologist".
And this, well, i'd be able to relate to that.
"In your sleep", she said. IN MY SLEEP. Do you know who threatens to "BLOODY KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP" ? Those weirdoes who grab sharp Ginsu knives and rock about on their heels in dark corners and mutter under their breath, "hehehe. go to sleep. Ehehehehehe. You're gonna die. Eeeeeeehehehehehe. You're gonna die."
I wonder if my mom will utter an infamous one liner too.
You know, one liners? Those murderers always have those. They strangle you, or stab you, and then go... well, anything. Like, "SEE YOU IN HELL", or "MERRY CHRISTMAS", or "CHICKEN CHOPS". Or even something totally obscure and unrelated like "THE STRING OF E".
I never know what one liners are for. Maybe it's to mess with your mind one more time before you go down. Like, "huh?... string of... uugghhh....".
I can imagine my mom now, readying and sharpening her scissors. You know what'd she'd say. "HAIR YOU GO!". Or maybe "SNIPPADY DOO DAH!". Or even "THIS IS FUR YOU". All of which would be really, really bad puns.
Why is she fixated on ridding me of my fringe anyway? Does it annoy her? She says it annoys her. How?
Do the curls i inherited from her remind her of some sick, pre-hair bonding days of hers? Do they form vulgar curse words and crude sexual innuendo? Or maybe the modus is far more sinister. Maybe my fringe must be sacrificed to save an alien race held hostage by another alien race going "GIVE ME JEREMY'S FRINGE OR I LAUNCH THE RACE-DESTROYING-DOOMSDAY DEVICE!". I think i can understand that! I can be sympathetic!
I mean, really.
Assuming you havent retreated by now, that's weirder for you.
THE END (?)
Friends, Enemies, the fataly insane, gather round, and let us deliberate one of life's more amusing mysteries. You would agree that some things are weird; eyes out of people's sockets, half a billion piercings on someone's genitals, gravity (like, apple falling?! lol!), death by gravity (like, people falling?! lol!), defying gravity (like, upthrust?! lol!) , or how i introduced this entry with a wall of words completely unrelated to what i'm about to say.
Then there are things that arn't just weird. The extremely weird. The inexplicitly weird. The unbelievably and unexplainable weird. Things that penetrate a whole new level of weird. An entirely fresh dimension of weird. An weird that threatens to tremble and quake, confuse and befuddle, on a massive, worldwide scale. In a word, weirder.
Days ago my mother, peace-loving and ghandi-like woman that she is, stormed into my room with what sounded like the entire foreign legion. Shouts, screams and cries that emulated battle trumpets and command drums. She stormed into my room, scissors in hand, threatening to cut my hair.
Threatening. Oh but that's just the tip of the iceberg, my friends.
You'd think a woman on serious medication wouldnt have to energy to do something so insane and bizaare, and pointless. But lo and behold; Nay, nein and no. I've got a mom whom i had to disarm (yes, i had to use a disarming move on my own mother) to obtain a scissors which she had brought dangerously close to my FACE and EYES, a mother who also threatened to sneak up on me while i was sleeping like bloody sadako and cut my frindge off.
How can a woman, who i was carrying around on my back that same day because she had twisted her ankle, appear to have the agility of a million highly trained Bruce Lee clones in her attempt to ensure i look like Jet Li in 'FEARLESS'. It doesnt make sense.
Again, i had to disarm my mother. DISARM. my MOTHER. Do you know who you learn disarms for? You learn them for thugs, bengs, evil ninjas or rogue transformers, who'd come from behind you with iron bars, parangs, pistols, and disintegrating rays. They would threaten to hurt you if you dont silently surrender your girlfriend or furby to them so they can have THEIR way on HER ass.
Not a nice prospect.
But no. My mom rampaged in like Jack the Ripper, blades a snipping, in a mad and frenzied attempt to rid me of my hair. MY HAIR, of all things. You'd expect mothers to take your wallet. You'd also expect pickpockets to take your wallet. Like in the movies, when Jason crashes into a bedroom chainsaw a-blazing, and aims to cut off every bloody appendage on his victim's body. They dont teach you how to defend against hair strikes in Kenjutsu, Karate, or Aikido. You never see a black belt tell his pupils, "Well little grasshopper, if you see them go for your fringe, perform a cross block. And your sideburn, a knife block."
but i digress, of course. I guess you're never really prepared for every scenario. Who really knows. How could the Power Rangers have predicted that their 100% evil enemy would attack on a weekly basis from 8-9 am?!
One day they're gonna run out of plotlines. They're gonna come up with a villian who would rule the world with skills from his days in the barber shop. He would use a gigantic hairclip to secure the hero to a chair as he divulges his secrets for world domination. But he's not just gonna make people bald, oh no. Thats to simple. It has to be more devious. More sinister. More specific.
He's gonna find someway to keep humanity under his grasp by cutting off the fringes of every poor soul on the planet. And this bizaare but elborate scheme will come so swiftly, so unexpectedly, people would be looking like Mao before they could say the word "trichologist".
And this, well, i'd be able to relate to that.
"In your sleep", she said. IN MY SLEEP. Do you know who threatens to "BLOODY KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP" ? Those weirdoes who grab sharp Ginsu knives and rock about on their heels in dark corners and mutter under their breath, "hehehe. go to sleep. Ehehehehehe. You're gonna die. Eeeeeeehehehehehe. You're gonna die."
I wonder if my mom will utter an infamous one liner too.
You know, one liners? Those murderers always have those. They strangle you, or stab you, and then go... well, anything. Like, "SEE YOU IN HELL", or "MERRY CHRISTMAS", or "CHICKEN CHOPS". Or even something totally obscure and unrelated like "THE STRING OF E".
I never know what one liners are for. Maybe it's to mess with your mind one more time before you go down. Like, "huh?... string of... uugghhh....".
I can imagine my mom now, readying and sharpening her scissors. You know what'd she'd say. "HAIR YOU GO!". Or maybe "SNIPPADY DOO DAH!". Or even "THIS IS FUR YOU". All of which would be really, really bad puns.
Why is she fixated on ridding me of my fringe anyway? Does it annoy her? She says it annoys her. How?
Do the curls i inherited from her remind her of some sick, pre-hair bonding days of hers? Do they form vulgar curse words and crude sexual innuendo? Or maybe the modus is far more sinister. Maybe my fringe must be sacrificed to save an alien race held hostage by another alien race going "GIVE ME JEREMY'S FRINGE OR I LAUNCH THE RACE-DESTROYING-DOOMSDAY DEVICE!". I think i can understand that! I can be sympathetic!
I mean, really.
Assuming you havent retreated by now, that's weirder for you.
THE END (?)
10:53 AMdude, did you like just copy and paste the entire thing from our conv. i swear you were blogging in our chatbox. now i know why you rambled uncontrollably. how self-centred.
tsk. hey, visit me on my shift some day, seriously.
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