Okay, so I really, really, really, and let me reiterate, really, blew it with this blog. This was going to be the one that continued on to great heights without ever collapsing into that familiar territory of unupdatia. And this time, I swear I have a valid excuse.
That excuse? Piranhas.
From last July 16 until September 11, and then from September 13 until today, my life has been infested with piranhas. Piranhas of all shapes and sizes. Mainly, though, piranha-sized and piranha-shaped.
You know what stinks about piranhas? They’re not afraid to just latch on. Somebody posted on Wikipedia that they have a “voracious” appetite. There are only two scenarios where it’s appropriate to use the word “voracious” to describe an appetite. One is encountering a piranha. There other is encountering my Uncle Ted.
I’m kidding. I don’t have an Uncle Ted. But if I did, I imagine that he’d be really obese, because he’d always be voraciously eating, every single time you saw him. Picture this: you’re in the bathroom, shitting and reading Kirby Puckett’s autobiography, when all of a sudden you realize that the shower faucet is on, and the reason is because there’s somebody in there taking a shower, and how you didn’t previously notice that somebody was taking a shower while you were in the bathroom plopping waste is a whole other matter, but you pull back the curtain (Why, you ask, would you pull back the curtain to see who is in there? For all you know it could be fat Uncle Ted in there. Read on:)on the off chance that Brooklyn Decker had a fight with Andy Roddick and broke into your house to use your shower on the off chance that you might be shitting and upon hearing the shower running would pull back the curtain and fuck her, but said off chance was indeed an off chance and it is Uncle Ted in there, and he’s eating his second of three full racks of spare ribs, and the sauce has smeared all over his boobs, which incidentally are bigger, albeit manlier and nastier, than Brooklyn Decker’s.
So since Uncle Ted doesn’t actually exist, the piranha really is the only critter whose appetite could be considered voracious. And since my point in bringing up piranhas was to imply that they’re somehow the reason I took a shameful six month sabbatical from writing in this blog, I guess my only option as far as where to take this post is to now say that they voraciously ate my body.
Except my hands, which are currently typing this.
And my brain, which is signaling these thoughts to my hands.
What I’m trying to say is, I’m now just two hands and a brain, detached from a piranha-ingested body and miraculously still functioning.