Tag Archive: strange

The Good Ship … AHHHHHH!!!

I’ve been interested in Fanfiction for a while – I’m one of those people who want to know what happened after the “… and they lived happily ever after.” My involvement with the Library of the Damned – where my friends and I riff on the worse fics we can find, (and I happen to have a post up today) has only strengthened one of my core beliefs;

People are fucking crazy.

Let me introduce you to the wonderful world of the Shipper.

Shipper comes from ship, an abbreviation of worship, and is used to describe someone with an unnatural and unwholesome attachment to a particular fictional character or character pairing. This obsession is always sexual in nature and is really, really creepy.

There are many things I consider myself a fan of, and there are even somethings that I could be considered a rabid fan of, but I have never been so intensely interested in a fictional character that I plotted out every moment of their intimate lives.

Graphically plotted out. In disturbing detail that makes me want to dig a bunker under my house. And it’s always subjects that you would never think would lend itself to that sort of fiction. SpongeBob and the various My Little Ponies feature in a number of works that would land their authors in a psych ward in a heartbeat.

I am refusing to link any examples that would prove my point, because I don’t think anyone should be subjected to them. I’ve read a couple and I really wish I hadn’t.

If you are interested in reading a poorly-worded description of two of your beloved childhood icons engaging in the sort of behavior you normally need a credit card to see online, head on over to fanfiction.net. It’s packed with the stuff.

If fantasizing about cartoon characters is what does it for you, fine. Dress up like Wonder Woman and have your wife tie you up with your magic lasso – so long as you are consenting adults there is really no harm in that sort of thing.

When you vomit your personal fantasies onto the Internet and start crafting entire fictional worlds that revolve around your characters fucking each other, that’s when you need to step back and take a look at your life.


I Fear For Humanity

Today’s post is about this little darling.


What fresh slice of hell is this?

Meet the Derma Microneedle Roller.

Notice how the second word it its name contains the word “needle”? I noticed that too.

Here’s how this thing is supposed to work – You press that wheel o’ pain against your skin and then roll it back and forth so that the tiny little needles puncture your skin and you resemble a Looney Tunes character after they’ve been shot.

This is to make you “beautiful”.

Because poking tiny holes in yourself and possibly inserting some of the millions of  bacteria, viruses, and fungi that live on your skin into them is very attractive to some people.

I can think of one.

Sellers claim it will make your skin smooth and reduce wrinkles and all the usual anti-aging rigmarole. I guess once the scars heal they would be fairly smooth, but just looking at this thing makes me go “What. The HELL?”

pokey thing

It comes in a clear plastic coffin. Like a vampire.


On Friday I walked into a wall.

I have no excuse; I wasn’t doing something else, for once I wasn’t thinking about something – I was utterly undistracted in any way.

And yet I walked directly into a wall. I knew I was going to do it a split-second before I actually did it, I had enough time to formulate the thought “Hey, a wall”:THUD:

It was a hallway I have walked down many times before so I can’t blame unfamiliarity. I knew there wasn’t a doorway or other opening there, my feet just decided to turn and ram me into the sheetrock.

Here’s the odd bit – I didn’t think it was weird at the time. I hit the wall and my brain went “Huh, you hit the wall. Situation normal. Continue.” Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’m kind of becoming alarmed that I did that.  Did I fall asleep for a second? This is not out of the realm of possibility; I sleep-walk occasionally and have woken up stuck behind a door or trying in vain to walk through the wall. But I don’t think I fell asleep, unless I was having an incredibly realistic dream that exactly mimicked what I was actually doing. Again, that would be pretty normal for me, but it’s unlikely. Maybe it’s aliens or some sort of government mind control, but then why would space aliens (or the government) care if I walked into a wall?

Perhaps I should look in to acquiring an aluminum foil beanie.


I have a little widget for my blog that tells me what search terms people have used to find my site. Some of them are understandable, while others worry me. Currently these are the top terms;

batman panties, hyper dental peeling stick review, dental peeling stick review, inmate hotplates, sticks peeling dental funciona

For the past two or three weeks, the primary search term has been some variation of the dental scrubby stick review I did however-long-ago-it-was. People seem to really be interested in whether or not a ninty-nine cent bit of fiberous material will give you a gleaming white smile.  (As I’ve told the three people who have emailed me with badly spelled questions, the answer is “Kinda sorta.”)

Then last week Inmate Hotplates showed up shortly after I posted my lightbulb cooking experiment and has been gaining fast. Every time I refresh the page the order is slightly different. It’s like watching the world’s slowest race. And just now, a brand-new contender has come from out of nowhere; ladies and gentlemen, I give you – Batman Panties.

That is so going to be my band name, if I ever get around to learning how to play an istrument.

It has everything – the hard-edged awesomeness of Batman paired with the gently wafting curtains of Panties.

It’s just … perfect.

Dream Weaver

I have odd dreams.

Please, try to control your shock.

I always have, it’s just my weird brain doing its thing. One of my favorites involves me winning the lottery. Fairly standard, right? But I dream about what I would do after I win. It seems I would get up and go to work like normal, but instead of working I just sit in the lobby all day playing on my computer and ordering pizza. Naked.

And then there’s the one about the circus where I’m in charge of shaving the elephants. That one’s pretty odd. All of my dreams are strange.

 Last night was no different. Here’s what occupied my mind last night.

I went to the Governor’s Mansion for dinner.  I  either can’t remember why or I never knew why, but there I was. The governer was Bedtime Bear, from the Care Bears, and he was married to Megan Fox. Again, this seemed perfectly normal. We sit down at this comically long table, like you see in the movies, with perhaps a hundred people sitting down to dinner. All the other people were in really nice clothes, I’m in my nightgown, and Bedtime Bear… well, he’s wearing fur of course.

This pompous fellow in a tux comes in, a butler straight from Central Casting, and announces dinner in a voice that sounds like Donald Duck. Servants wheel in these giant baskets and bowls, the size of grain silos or swimming pools. The diners are suppose to take one and past the rest. I start panicking because I think I’m going to get crushed by these massive containers, so I decide to go to the bathroom. I start wandering around this giagantic place, trying to find the one bathroom. Every single room I go into has someone sleeping in it. One room has suits of armor and hammocks had been strung between each of them, each one filled. The snoring was deafening.

I finally find the bathroom, which is actually a converted closet, and there is someone sleeping in there, too. It’s Bedtime Bear’s Uncle Bob.

And then I woke up.

The Pen Conundrum

I noticed something odd today.

There is a clipboard on my desk where people sign in, it has a pen attached to the top with one of those long plastic springy things. Earlier today someone asked to borrow a pen and I gave them one of the loose ones I keep in a jar. They did their business and went about their way and I got busy and forgot all about the pen.

And then I noticed something odd. People were signing in more and more using the loose pen, even moving the regular pen out of the way at times so they could use the loose one. Both pens work equally well; both are the same color, the same size, almost identical save one has a leash and one does not.

But they used the loose pen about two-thirds of the time without even testing the leashed pen to see if it worked.


Did they assume the pen was broken or in some way non-functioning?

I got curious, so I scrounged up a loose pen that was almost empty and scribbled it dry. I replaced the good loose pen with the dry one.

A good majority picked up the loose pen, scribbled a bit, and then tried the leashed pen. Some tried the dry pen and then asked me for a pen, assuming the leashed pen did not work either. Very few picked up the leashed pen and ignored the dry pen altogether.

And then someone stole the dry pen.

I will never understand people.