The Dark of Heartness
It would be most appreciated if no one mentions this to the public at large. I’m kinna seeing someone, semi-seriously, some of the time, on the sly, and I don’t want it to leak to her.
Alright one of us has commitment issues.
But I’m not saying who.
Be that as it may, if this got out, it might ruin me, my career, not to mention my entire life.
It’s been two weeks since “the occurrence” and my therapist says that I’m over-reacting. Yeah, but what does six years of college followed by tens years of dedicated research and experience in the field mean?
I just can’t get the vision out of my head. It’s haunts my dreams, it’s lurking in the back of my mind. Even as I write these words I can sense it, watching, waiting to thrust itself to the front of my thoughts, set up a chaise-lounge and order a pina colada.
Yeah, it’s that horrible.
They say that when you suffer some kind of trauma that it’s good to talk to people. And you are people! So welcome to my therapy.
I saw Monsters, Inc. and now I am ruined.
That movie should come with a warning right over the opening credits. Something like: Warning: This movie may cause single men to want children.
Oh, the horror, the horror.
First of all, I’m unfit to be a parent. I have a tattoo from the Surgeon General to this effect. I’m lazy by nature, I like to light things on fire, and a balanced, nutritional meal in my opinion is ordering the Cajun chicken sandwich at Wendy’s with a Frosty. And we won’t even get into my personal grooming habits which on the whole make Big Foot look like the poster-child for Clinique.
But once upon a time I did want a daughter. A son would be fine too. I’m not overly picky. Ten fingers, ten toes and the mother’s looks.
God, please give the child the mother’s looks!
But then I got older, had friends who had children, went to the supermarket and rode on airplanes. You know, the usual places where children tend to show off their 10,000 PSI lung capacity (on sale at Sears for $169.99 through December). I just figured, given my own memories of the torture that I inflicted upon first time parents as an ankle-biter, that I would refrain from passing on my genes and thus releasing a Kraken-esque child on an otherwise unsuspecting world (rent Clash of the Titans for the kraken reference).
My getting married and having a child are signs five and six of the coming apocalypse. Nostradamus even mentions me in his prophecies:
The rock holds in its depths white clay
which will come out milk-white from a cleft
Needlessly troubled people will not dare touch it,
unaware that the foundation of the earth is of clay.
My life laid out like that is kinna spooky. But at least we know how to avert this danger: I should be purged. I should be flogged. I do not deserve to walk amongst normal men.
Sorry. That was a little Golden Child flashback. It happens when you are on as many drugs as I am.
Hey. They’re all prescription.
Even the little, yellow, different-looking ones.
But back to the article.
Monsters, Inc. is, if you haven’t seen, a pretty straight-forward story about two bachelor friends who run into trouble when a child appears on ehte scene. Comedy hijinx ensue. You’ll have seen the same plot in Three Men and Baby and Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. But what they don’t tell you is that the production company Pixar has placed subliminal messages that have made Boo, the child in question, the bane of every single man’s life.
To quote Nostradamus:
When the fish that travels over both land and sea
is cast up on the shore by a great wave,
its shape foreign, smooth and frightful.
From the sea the enemies soon reach the walls.
That man’s predictions are eerily on target, aren’t they?
Basically Boo is just too damn cute. Of course she had her downside too. She’s irresistibly adorable, likes to play and draw, and has a smile that will melt your stone hears. And I know you have stone hearts too! Plus she has this pom-pom hair that bounces up and down when she’s happy.
Well, she does!
Oh, and when she falls asleep, she just looks like an angel; if an angel were a small, computer generated child with pom-poms and a giggle.
So you see. I’m in trouble big. I need help. I need hope.
Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.
Alright one of us has commitment issues.
But I’m not saying who.
Be that as it may, if this got out, it might ruin me, my career, not to mention my entire life.
It’s been two weeks since “the occurrence” and my therapist says that I’m over-reacting. Yeah, but what does six years of college followed by tens years of dedicated research and experience in the field mean?
I just can’t get the vision out of my head. It’s haunts my dreams, it’s lurking in the back of my mind. Even as I write these words I can sense it, watching, waiting to thrust itself to the front of my thoughts, set up a chaise-lounge and order a pina colada.
Yeah, it’s that horrible.
They say that when you suffer some kind of trauma that it’s good to talk to people. And you are people! So welcome to my therapy.
I saw Monsters, Inc. and now I am ruined.
That movie should come with a warning right over the opening credits. Something like: Warning: This movie may cause single men to want children.
Oh, the horror, the horror.
First of all, I’m unfit to be a parent. I have a tattoo from the Surgeon General to this effect. I’m lazy by nature, I like to light things on fire, and a balanced, nutritional meal in my opinion is ordering the Cajun chicken sandwich at Wendy’s with a Frosty. And we won’t even get into my personal grooming habits which on the whole make Big Foot look like the poster-child for Clinique.
But once upon a time I did want a daughter. A son would be fine too. I’m not overly picky. Ten fingers, ten toes and the mother’s looks.
God, please give the child the mother’s looks!
But then I got older, had friends who had children, went to the supermarket and rode on airplanes. You know, the usual places where children tend to show off their 10,000 PSI lung capacity (on sale at Sears for $169.99 through December). I just figured, given my own memories of the torture that I inflicted upon first time parents as an ankle-biter, that I would refrain from passing on my genes and thus releasing a Kraken-esque child on an otherwise unsuspecting world (rent Clash of the Titans for the kraken reference).
My getting married and having a child are signs five and six of the coming apocalypse. Nostradamus even mentions me in his prophecies:
The rock holds in its depths white clay
which will come out milk-white from a cleft
Needlessly troubled people will not dare touch it,
unaware that the foundation of the earth is of clay.
My life laid out like that is kinna spooky. But at least we know how to avert this danger: I should be purged. I should be flogged. I do not deserve to walk amongst normal men.
Sorry. That was a little Golden Child flashback. It happens when you are on as many drugs as I am.
Hey. They’re all prescription.
Even the little, yellow, different-looking ones.
But back to the article.
Monsters, Inc. is, if you haven’t seen, a pretty straight-forward story about two bachelor friends who run into trouble when a child appears on ehte scene. Comedy hijinx ensue. You’ll have seen the same plot in Three Men and Baby and Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. But what they don’t tell you is that the production company Pixar has placed subliminal messages that have made Boo, the child in question, the bane of every single man’s life.
To quote Nostradamus:
When the fish that travels over both land and sea
is cast up on the shore by a great wave,
its shape foreign, smooth and frightful.
From the sea the enemies soon reach the walls.
That man’s predictions are eerily on target, aren’t they?
Basically Boo is just too damn cute. Of course she had her downside too. She’s irresistibly adorable, likes to play and draw, and has a smile that will melt your stone hears. And I know you have stone hearts too! Plus she has this pom-pom hair that bounces up and down when she’s happy.
Well, she does!
Oh, and when she falls asleep, she just looks like an angel; if an angel were a small, computer generated child with pom-poms and a giggle.
So you see. I’m in trouble big. I need help. I need hope.
Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.
posted by RobRoy @ 12:58 PM
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