gonna be gone three whole days with no blogging.

WHAT WILL I DO??

Oh right, I'll visit my sister and her librarian husband.

That sounds cool.

I love my sister.

Here are some pictures that I haven't put up yet and probably shouldn't without any context, but I'm going to anyway

I'm sure that will hold the five people who grudgingly read my blog until Tuesday.

Here's a video for those of you who are unaware of Tragdor



Whooooaaaa that is one bad-ass mother fucker.

EDIT;;

For the sake of tradition, I am going to end this post with a picture of a corndog.
Hell yes.

hey guess what...

I look like Dougie Poynter

And Ayumi Hamasaki

But then I used another photo and IT SAID I LOOK LIKE TIM CURRY!!!
AND THAT WAS FROM A PRETTIER PICTURE OF ME!!

It does not give me solace that it also thinks I look like Kristen Dunst or Pamela Anderson.

WHY DO YOU HATE ME, INTERNET?!!?!

EDIT;;

To repair my broken heart, I made another corndog face

It's a witch from the Salem Witch Trials being burned at the stake.

I don't know why he looks so happy.

Life story number one

Ever since I was little, I have had an irrational fear of public restrooms.
I simply couldn't pee when there was anyone else in the room, but I didn't want to be by myself when the toilet monsters came up from the depths of the sewer to feed on my flesh. This usually left me torn between the need to not let anyone know that I peed, or have the security of another person that would rescue me from would-be attackers.

Eventually, I settled on waiting until someone started the hand-dryer and I could urinate without freaking out.

Before I got this tactic down, however, I had decided to brave the monster-infested bathrooms in favor of not letting anyone hear me pee. I waited until I was positive that every last living thing was out of the bathroom before I would relieve myself.

This caused some problems for me, primarily because it made my parents think that I had been kidnapped more times than one. I remember one incident in particular.

I was about five or six, I think, and I was at my dad's work while they were having some kind of diabetes party (my dad is a nutritionist.) I drank too much punch (it was sugar free and tasted like strawberry tears, but I was five so what did I care?) and I asked my dad where the bathroom was. He pointed it out to me, and I went to it hastily. I was not prepared for what I saw in there.

This bathroom was huge. Maybe that's just because I remember it from a two-and-a-half foot perspective, but I have never seen a larger bathroom before or since. I was in awe. It was the greatest or worst thing I had ever seen. It was a really nice bathroom, but about half of the stalls were filled with legs. I went to one stall, climbed on top of the toilet so no one would know I was there (because I still knew that people would be suspicious of two tiny kid legs under a bathroom stall for who knows how long) and waited. I waited until I heard the first toilet flush, and then the second. Third, forth, fifth... Footsteps. "Shit," I think. "What do people think they're doing, invading on my pee time? I'm never going to pee! My bladder will explode and monsters will eat my remains! I AM GOING TO DIE!!!"

This went on for about thirty minutes, and I am not even joking. I was about to pee myself, but I wasn't about to do it in front of the three other people in the bathroom, so I was going to hold it, because I was a viking of peeing.
I don't know exactly how long I was in the bathroom, but I know it was longer than thirty minutes, and eventually my dad got worried. I guess he thought I was caught by a pedophile serial killer rapist that was also a dragon on my massive excursion to the bathroom. He looked all over, and eventually found someone who saw me go into the bathroom and as far as she knew I hadn't come out yet.

To my never ending embarrassment, my dad came in and very loudly yelled:
I was mortified. Beyond embarrassed. I would never be able to show my face to the outside world again.

I meekly replied, "Yeah, daddy, I'm here..."

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting to pee..."

It was then I heard an exasperated sigh and my dad said "Well, hurry, we need to go soon..."

And I replied, "Okay."

It still took me ten minutes to actually pee and make sure the people that were in there were gone and wouldn't know that it was me my dad was yelling at. I don't know why I was so freaked out by this, or why I still am, but I just feel the need to be really incognito when going to the bathroom.
I am also inexplicably afraid of bathroom monsters that hide in the toilet. Actually, I think I'm just afraid of the toilet. Maybe I should pee in the bushes outside, like this hilarious lady did. But I am almost eighteen so this might not be acceptable for an adult to do. HOLY SHIT I AM NEARLY AN ADULT!!!!!

I also just realized that it's totally irrational for an adult to be afraid of peeing in public or toilet monsters, but I guess that's why it's called an 'irrational fear'.

Anyways, back to toilet monsters. I am retardedly afraid that some monster is going to miraculously emerge from my toilet and will eat me. It may or may not also be a rapist. It doesn't really matter when you're about to be eaten.
Also my bathroom is really yellow. I just thought you should know.

And I didn't mean to make the toilet monster the same color as poop. Oh well. Too late now.

I just hate toilets. I shouldn't because waste needs to be disposed of somehow, but does the toilet really need to look so menacing?!

Oh, I just found out that there are two kinds of toilet phobias.

1. Paruresis - when one is unable to urinate in the presence of other people, usually a public toilet. It can also happen in one's own home, in which the sufferer is "terribly shy" of urinating when someone else is around. People who suffer from this condition are usually unwilling to travel into far places.
2. Parcopresis - when one is unable to defecate in toilets with many people around. The sufferer limits himself to moving his bowels in "safe places," usually his/her own home. In extreme cases, people are known to have given up their jobs because of this disorder.

I guess I go under the first one, but it doesn't explain why I'm positive that I'm going to be murdered by murderous creatures that lurk in the depths of the sewers.

TLDR; I'm scared of peeing in public and have been since I learned to pee, and I think there are monsters in the sewer that will kill me at night.

this is possibly the greatest thing i have ever seen

I am amazed. This is the greatest thing to ever happen to me in my life.

I'm exaggerating a little, but not by much.


But I made some minor adjustments to make it cooler.


This is a definite improvement.

I never do my chores when I should and that is why I am awake

Warning: I use the "C" word in this. If you are offended by it, well... Here's a picture of my monster-themed bathroom toiletries:

THESE ARE SO CUTE OH MY GAWRSH

This is an epic chronicle of why chores never get done in my house. There are so many things that I would rather be doing as opposed to folding my little brother's icky boxers and to touch socks of other people and that just grosses me out.









And here's a picture of my cat with a big furry belly, just because of the magnitude of adorableness in this one picture:
And uh that's why chores never get done until I am half-loopy from lack of sleep and then I'm not tired anymore so I just write blog entries for no apparent reason other than my mind won't let me focus on anything in particular.

I am going to be the winner of the zombie apocalypse

For some reason or another, I have decided that the world is going to end soonish, so I have been preparing myself for the eminent battle with the hordes of zombies I will obviously be fighting. I've starting walking every day (because running takes a lot more effort and I don't have time for effort, besides zombies are only slightly more coordinated than moss anyway so it's not like I'm going to have to move very fast to get away from them), punching my little brother's punching bag, and storing a mental arsenal full of weapons that I'm positive that I will someday master. I am assuming my zombie-killing days will go something like this:
Elaborate plans have been made for how me and brother shall escape the apocalyptic wasteland that Norman will no doubt become. I am convinced that not only will I not die, I will become King Of The World and everyone will call me "Tafa The Conqueror Of All Things Mighty But Not As Mighty As She Is". I have a vivid montage in my head of how someday all the world will look at me and say "That is one BAMF king of everything."

Stage 1 Of My Plan For Survival And Domination:

For this I shall have to acquire a knowledge of all things that I can possibly use for a weapon. Machetes, hand guns, grenades, baseball bats, hockey sticks, butcher knives, and anything else I can possibly think of. If I can train my pets to kill zombies for me, I'll do that too.

That is what pure bad-assery looks like.

Stage 2 Of My Plan For Survival And Domination:

I have to get a house boat. Zombies cannot swim and that is a hard fact. I also have to figure out some way to get electricity and internet on that boat, so that I can update you guys on how hardcore I am at surviving and being King of the Water. I will catch fish for food and may occasionally venture onto dry land to procure lady products and juice and corndogs.

Speaking of corndogs, here's two that I painted David Bowie's face on with mustard:
You're welcome.

Anyway, that didn't have anything to do with how I'm going to live on a boat when zombies attack, but it seemed important at the time.

Yeah, so, this is what I imagine my life as a river-bound loner to be:
Yes. It will be a cake made of superiority and rainbows and unicorns.


Where was this going again? Oh yeah. I was raging through the apocalypse in a blazing glory of flame and victory.

Stage 3:

I beat up zombies left and right and prove my ultimate kingliness to all of man-kind so they have no choice but to declare me "Super Awesome Leader Of All Things". When they see how super bad-ass I am, they will be all like "Oh, whoa, Tafa is so amazing!" And like the modest person I am, I'll be all, "Oh, I'm not that great. I just killed ten thousand zombies with my bare hands is all..." And then they'll give me a crown and I can make them do stuff, like getting me chocolate covered potato chips and doing my laundry.

THE END

You will have to pardon this, I wrote this while sleep-deprived and I wanted the world to know that I'm awesome.

what could possibly go wrong?!

Lots of things, Tafa. Lots of things.

Like you could cut your hair like you think you are proficient in such practices:
But on the bright side you will still look better than you did before.
Or you can put anti-flea and tick medicine on your cat and she will hate you for it.



But at least you can still think of yourself in a semi-realistic way.
And you draw pictures of hippogryphs pretty well.Oh yeah. That kind of illustration can only come from someone with supreme artistic talent.

But then again, you could also eat WAY TOO MUCH AND MAKE YOURSELF SICK.
But don't worry because as far as most people know, you are kind of normal.

Except that guy at the doughnut shop. He knows you're a freak.

So does Julissa, but that doesn't matter because you have conversations like this with her:
And this:
Yeah. As far as most people know, you're a pretty cool dude.

Wait a minute.

Oh shit.

I HAVE BEEN OFF ANTIPSYCHOTICS FOR LIKE THREE WEEKS

And hallucinations have been minimum, which is pretty cool beans c:

See, about a month ago, I saw and heard things pretty regularly. I had this "boogieman" that looked something like this:
Especially when he's just sitting by your bed waiting for you to fall asleep so he can disembowel you with his Satan-claws.

But lately, when I HAVE seen him, he's kept a fair distance and hasn't said anything, like when I first started seeing him. Which is a definite improvement. But the little orbs I saw aren't around anymore, which makes me cry tears of woe.
On the bright side, that means I PROBABLY don't have brain cancer. c: Which I can't get an MRI to validate because of my braces. Apparently they are too magnetic for the machine. But I DID get a free wonky scan of my head, and that's pretty awesome.

Here you see the lamest scan of a brain in the history of this technology.

I am kind of paranoid, though, and the fact that there was some kind of crazy ruckus outside of my window last night did not help that.
Also yes I do have a colorful blanket like that, but it isn't quite as... rainbowie.

Rainbowie. David Bowie. WHAT

You're welcome.

Also, David Bowie has the biggest dick I have ever seen.

Not that I've seen many dicks, but still.

I have also noticed that I have an affinity for eating phallic shaped objects and drawing faces on them.

Like corndogs:


I think I'm going to start doing this with all of my food.

It doesn't help that corndogs and hotdogs are probably my favorite foods on this earth.

WHY YES I AM TWELVE YEARS OLD. :I In my tastes for eating anyway.

things and stuff and... things

Dear lady at the pharmacist,

Please stop calling my little brother "your cute little sister... it is too bad about her mustache though". It makes him very angry and then he hits me when I agree with you. It does not help that he doesn't sound like much of a boy either. Regardless, it makes him very distressed and he wants me to cut his hair because he seems to think that because I trim my bangs, I know how to properly style hair. This is a mistake, because all of my endeavors into doing so look like this:

So, as you can see, giving my brother Gender Identity Disorder is completely ruining my life. So cut it out, or I'll cut out your tongue.


All my love,
Tafa

EDIT;;

HERE JULISSA ARE YOU HAPPY NOW