break time...

After four and one half hours of microbiology on Friday morning, I sensed that my brain reached and surpassed its maximum stimulus limit.  All those worms that make up the structure of the brain were probably inflamed and irritated.  You'd think hermaphrodites would never get bored or overstimularted.  The truth is they're all tensed up sexually.  They're so confused and frustrated, it's not good.  This is why our brain should just be a big round blob, rather than being made up of high strung, emotional worms.  They work like lazy, deviant roadside construction workers and they're constantly sending my neurons on unnecessary detours.  This only creates collisions that lead to uncontrollable expletives, finding there way out of my mouth.  Sailor, you can me?

So, as you could imagine, I was in great need of an outlet.  Unfortunately, getting rest or free time in my house is more of a second job, than a luxury.  Much to my dismay, I wasn't blessed with the commanding power to walk in the door, lay down the law, make three demands, and then go unwind.  I think that there are plenty of modern fathers, who experience a similar powerless environment.  It's as if women are trying to avenge us for the sins of our fathers, and the tribulations of their mothers.  They say equality, but what they mean is: we want the good things that our mom's had, and better things than you have.  Freud knew about this long ago.  We're taking about textbook penis envy, but it is spiraling out of control...  Anyways my point is, if I want to get any R&R, I have to play crazy when I get home.  I really have to sell it too.  The best method is pretending to have tourettes, which happens to be a natural skill.  Ok... I have no control over it, but after microbiology it's all ticks and cellular words.
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I managed to step into an empty home.  So, I went into my room and stood in anatomical position--palms forward.  My chi found center, and I began to float.  I was on my way to a happy place.  The clouds were made from the cream that they put in the middle of Twinkies.  I choose for the ingredients of said cream to remain mystery to me.  What if I really found out?  That could ruin Twinkies for me for life, and I'm not willing to take that risk.

So anyways, I was standing there pondering... and it came.  Oh yeah, like a ton of bricks!  The meaning of life.  I was so stoked.  I wanted to write it down, but I knew I'd remember.  After two victorious fist pumps in the air, my mind went blank and the knowledge was gone.  Just like that!  I woke up in my room growling at my reflection in the mirror and chewing on the drywall.  Very awkward.  Never let go of that anatomical threshold...

I'm not crazy, you just have a skewed understanding of reality...