crikey, defective shoes, and a lying ouija board.

even when things are slow around here, i still can't have a plain old normal day. i woke up late, as usual, took my mandatory 30 minute shower, then tried on 3 sets of clothes before remembering i woke up late in the first place, and went with a hoodie, jeans and tennis shoes. as much as i hate wearing sweat shirts and slouching around, sometimes the OCD gives in. but alas, vacationing mental disorders didn't last long. by noon, my new tennis shoes had come untied about 3,428 times, only the right shoe, mind you, and now i have to return them for being defective. i hate tying my shoes, it taxes my mental capacity. if breathing wasn't handled subconsciously, i'd have been dead long ago.

and speaking of death, it's quite ironic steve irwin died from an animal with a pointy tail as it's only defense. and it wasn't even provoked. oops? i always liked watching croc files, and with all the close calls where i thought he was going to bite it, i guess it's no suprise it finally happened, but i know i'll miss his theatrics.

what else? oh, the lying ouija board. normally, you ask a question, and it responds with a yes, no, or spells out your answer. or it does nothing at all. but that's a different story. anyways, i asked the ouija girl if i could trade my soul to the devil for outstanding lead guitar playing ability, and she laughed at me. then the room went dark, and the hot looking ouija girl morphed into tori spelling. i mean, morphed into the devil himself. and he was laughing also. seemed like the thing to do, i guess. after he picked himself up from rolling around on the floor laughing, he scooped up his pitchfork, put his hand on my shoulder, and in a not so straight face, said "look man, i'm a very powerful fallen angel. i command legions of demons, i have ozzy on speed dial, in fact i tell your mom all the nasty things you do in her dreams at night. the stuff you did last weekend? yeah, she knows. yet with all my worldly powers, teaching you to play guitar is outta my league. i can't do miracles hank, sorry. gotta go, but don't worry, i'll catch up to you in the end. no pun intended." and with that, he morphed back into tori spelling and i ran out of the confessional booth.