I was sick last night and am still a bit queasy this morning. Personally, I'm going to blame the coffee at the local Cup for it's heinous attack on my person. Maybe someone else has already capitalized on my initial design involving coffee. What if I'm mutating as we speak (or type...or read...)?!

My inner organs all joined up last night, had a couple of words swapped back and forth, sang a jaunty jig and then went on an all-out strike - leaving the rest of me quite confused and discombobulated (and intimately acquainted with the knowledge that it's time to bleach the grout in the bathroom).

So I finally managed to crawl into bed and lay there like a police brutality victim, curled up and practically comatose. It was as I was about to fall asleep that my pets decided it was time to cheer me up and heal me with their general cuteness. Unfortunately, this eventually led to more pain. For me.

First, the dog (keep in mind Sam is now over 80 pounds and almost as tall as I am) gets on the bed and cuddles close. He lays down, effectively stealing my pillow, the other pillow, all the sheets and pinning me under a heavy blanket with the ability left to only move one arm and feebly at that.

Second, the cat decides that now that I am incapacitated it is the perfect time for him to come and judiciously lay on the kitty cure for whatever ails you. He lays on my feet and preens proceeding then to clean himself vigorously. He then decides my socks are also in need of cleaning, then my knee, my blanket, my hands, my hair is quite crunchy, and look...an eye. By the end of his "helpful" ministrations, he can be found sitting on my (immobilized) chest and purring contentedly.

I don't know how I woke up this morning. I thought for certain the dog was going to roll over and squash me or the cat was going to lick my skin entirely off.

No...wait...I do remember how I woke up now. I just must have blocked it from my mind - Sam rolled over and thwapped me in the face with his paw in his sleep.



But I survived! (Cue music: I will survive...la...la...la.... *cough* ... *cricket*...Um...hello?)

People are nasty, grotesque and foul - to put it mildly. I've concluded from personal experience with others, the public at large, my apartment complex grounds, retail stores, etc, that the majority of people resemble some sort of infectious and diseased slime mold more so than a human being.

I came home today - again - to a ridiculous assortment of trash around my building.

Seriously, people learn how to pick up after yourself. This is absurd.

Plastic wrappers, candy bar wrappers, crackers, beer cans, cigarette butts, a tarp, nails.

The sad thing is that this stuff usually gets picked up daily. And if the grounds people don't notice it, I end up picking it up out of disgusted annoyance.

If you trash the outside like this, what the hell do you do to your house?

Let us venture into the world of retail and the actions of people there.

I've gone into a restroom to use the facilities only to find someone has defecated and then smeared it all over the walls, the floor, the seats. What?! Did your ASS explode? Are you incapable of the concept of hygiene? Do you honestly think this is amusing? What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. You?

People will knock things off shelves by accident and then leave them. Sneeze...on everything and everyone. Track mud in despite the mat placed conveniently at the entrance doors for wiping feet. Take clothes off hangers and drop the hanger on the floor.

Honestly. You people are animals in a NOT happy, fun, 1960's Ooo Free Sex and Love or cuddly puppy/kitty/insert-pet-here way.



It's one of those days. And one of these days I'm going to war with my fellow homosapiens armed with a giant spray of lysol anchored to a helicopter.

Somedays, and I try so hard to be a goofy and happy person, somedays I hate the majority of our "civilized" species and am honestly appalled to be a part of this trash heap collective.

Anyone else heard about the BPA chemicals in a lot of plastic bottles and tin cans? It's supposedly linked to a whole slew and host of nasty diseases, cancers, and disorders. Of course, Ol' Sam says that isn't true - Plastic is as fresh and pure as a newly fallen snow (that's been trampled on by a neurotic elephant with a penchant for mud and excrement).

This BPA scare got me thinking - if our industries can accidentally cause genetic mutations (because that is essentially what cancers and such generally are), what could I do intentionally?

Step 1: I need to find a product that is commonly and regularly consumed by unsuspecting citizens.

This, luckily, was easily found - a cafe.

The shuffling incoherent hordes in both the morning and night regularly attend cafes for their daily doses of caffeine and, luckily, generally expect it to taste foul.

Honestly, how many of you have actually gotten a coffee that tastes appealing - not a mocha, a cappuccino or any other specialty beverage, but a regular coffee? Most of the time the damnable things taste like they were burning at the bottom of the pot for sixteen hours after being doused liberally with sauerkraut and iocane powder (I swear it isn't tasteless despite what some people might claim).

Right-o. I have found my distributor. Now comes the next important question and step - WHAT do I do with it? I don't want disease or disorders - the world has enough of that.

So, I did what any neurotic OCD oriented world-domination driven psychopath would do: I made a list of possibilities*.

*List subject to change at owner's discretion. Owner not liable for lawsuits and is a moral, law-abiding citizen. Having been photographed in the near proximity of a baby without running away screaming or collapsing into a fit of seizures, this proves the owner is a sensible and loving human being.**

**The owner would like to clarify by adding that it is only necessary to be photographed KISSING the foreheads of "cute" and "darling" babies if one is running for a political position. As she is attempting subversive (but legal per industry standards) world dominion she does not have to kiss those anno...er...beatific babes.

THE LIST


1. Turn People Into Undead: Hmm. This has been done a lot in the past. Do I really want either a vampiric host of minions or a shambling horde of rotting zombies? Really? Just think of the cleaning chores - constant vacuuming and scrubbing to get rid of blood stains and/or gelatinous flesh. Perhaps not, then.

2. Mindless Slaves: While this is appealing, I don't think it would be entertaining after awhile. Besides, the world already is filled with mindless slaves - look at the label whores, the posers, and the majority of Reality TV watchers. So, again, perhaps not.

3. Nanotechnology Inducing Powerful Creepy CyberPunk Mutations: Part of me, the geeky part that always wants to play a rousing game of Shadowrun (it's a tabletop game - think DnD, for a popular point of reference), really wants to vote this in. After all, what fun would the world be after everyone had powerful implants enabling super hacking, flight, laser beam eyes, skull crushing cybernetic limbs and such? A lot! Hmm...I'll have to put this down as a "maybe".

4. Pintsize: After a sip of coffee, everyone will get at least five inches shorter than me! For once in my life I won't have people making short jokes and oh so "witty" commentary about how I need a stool to reach anything in my kitchen cabinets. Besides, I've already noticed from standing on such stools the great rush of power I get when I can physically look down on someone. Ahh, yes. *rubs hands together* Ze Power! This too will go into the "maybe" category.

Now I must ponder and contemplate before enacting any of my nefarious plans.

Ooo...look, a coffee.

I can easily admit that deep down, I'm a coward.

If there is an apocalyptic event in which aliens or the undead (or undead aliens) drop down from the sky (or climb out of the ground) and begin attacking people - my ass is out of here.

I am not going Sigourney Weaver style and trying to save the day and everyone involved. Oh no, I'm much further ahead - like a few miles down the road, hoofing it with your only means of transportation.

Of course, this probably means that I would end up like the really fat guy in the first Jurassic Park (yes, the one that was also Newman on Seinfield). Do you remember how that bit of betrayal played out for him? No? With death - painful, agonizing, acid-spit-to-the-face death.

Karma does not hold back.

Truly, do you think you could stand there while something with teeth the size of your forearm gets ready to amass an attack against you? Without military grade flaming throwing weapons, what have you got to defend yourself with in an ordinary household when this Hollywood B Rated film horror erupts?

A Wal-mart butcher knife? Please. That thing barely cuts potatoes without snapping in half. You try and shove that in a chitin armor plated undead alien and the knife's going to yelp like a puppy and run away. Not to mention the fact that you have to get so close to the damned thing to begin with in order to try and stab it.

A can opener? Really? Should I even try to elaborate on how that would turn out?

Books? Well, I guess I could try and bludgeon it to death with a novel. Either that or read it War and Peace. It might just die out of sheer frustrated boredom after the first chapter - I know I almost did.

So, unless I end up raiding the local military compound for weapons (the same compound that probably called/released/created these undead aliens) I'm pretty much screwed when it comes to combat.

This, of course, leaves escape. Cowardly, running hysterically with arms waving wildly escape.

Luckily for me, I'm well suited to this. You could even say it may be my life's calling (in the case of attacking undead aliens with armor plated chitin and giant teeth).

There are some smells out there that can probably come close to killing you, but conversely (luckily) there are some scents that may take you as close to heaven as some of us are ever going to get.

I found this shampoo called Aura and it's mixed with ginger and verbena. I must have sniffed it three or four times before getting to the register. MMmmyum.

Something's wrong with a shampoo or a lotion if it doesn't smell so good that you continuously sniff yourself in public until people think you suffer from a disorder.