Tag Archives: serial killer

I’m Creepy

I collect parts of my family.

It’s so weird.


It’s like I’m a serial killer that hasn’t gotten around to killing them yet but has the whole “keeps souvenirs” part down.



My sister loves pandas. I now love plush pandas, adorable paintings, things like that. Plus I like how bi-polar they are. Not to mention that they spend their days eating, sleeping, attacking each other, and you know, sleeping. I think they’re adorable now as I’ve been exposed to them due to my sister, whom I call Panda. I don’t know what it is but suddenly I see a panda plushy and think it’s the cutest thing in the world. (I don’t have a money tree in my basement for my unicorn to eat from though, so I can’t buy them all)

My mom loves cookie monster. Ever since I was a munchkin, she’s loved him. Now? I love him! Cookies? Sarcasm? Blue? Fuzzy? My favorite quote by the cookie monster is, “Today me will live in the moment unless its unpleasant in which case me will eat a cookie”. Chocolate chip cookies….. *heaven* Double chocolate chip cookies too, man.

Papa loves Snoopy. I now love snoopy. Epically. He’s a writer, he loves naps, and he’s a sarcastic dog. Can you get any better???




Don’t get me wrong. I am still extremely picky, with everything. Including pandas, cookie monster quotes, and snoopy comics. Not to mention I simply added these random pieces of my family to a… you know… me. And me already came with quite a few likes already. I have like fifteen plushies and I love them all, none being a panda, for example.



Anywho, it struck me as real strange, how I collect parts of my family. Next thing you know I’ll be hiding the odd leg or finger in my freezer.

It’s like I absorb parts of them.

Creepy, right?


Have you guys ever done this?



Filed under Stream of Consciousness

If I Had a Title

I don’t remember where it came from or how I got on the subject but I was wondering what my title would be if I had a title. You know, like a noble person. Or a serial killer. And then I was like, um, I already have multiple. Duh. See here.


When I was younger: Paper Shredder

Oh yeah. I shredded paper for the sheer love of it. That and I had some anger issues (because I totally don’t now *rolls eyes*). I shredded paper that didn’t even need shredding. I know, wasteful, but it was better than shredding a human body. With my teeth. Just saying.

Oh, oh – and just two days ago I shredded a stack of WIP papers because I don’t have a paper shredder. Besides, they can put paper shredder papers back together if they’re dedicated enough. When you shred it by hand randomly? Harder to put back together. Not that anyone would want to put mine back together, but….


The shredding of the paper. It is fun. (this is Lucky by the way)

The shredding of the paper. It is fun. (this is Lucky by the way)


Great Food Person

I am the Great Food Person. I feed the mallows, the mum and the Lucky. Fear me. I will poison your food. Kidding! I have to eat it too…


OCD Daph and Germaphobe Daph

Heh. Yeah. OCD – I don’t actually have it. But I do like for everything to be neat, nice and precise. Where it should be. No excuses. If you had the energy and time to move it, you have the energy and time to move it back. Not that my OCD has imprinted on anyone else, but…*glare* Germaphobe – I drive my family crazy with this one, but I refuse to eat off of or drink out of food/drinks that anyone else has.


Fuzz Picker Upper

Lucky loves taking the stuffing out of stuffed animals and spreading it all throughout the house. That explains that. Following him around the living room and hallway picking up fuzz as I go.

I remember when he was a puppy-puppy, the ears off his blue elephant stuffed animal mysteriously disappeared. Come five am he drags me outside and starts puking up huge chunks of something. I’m freaking out thinking he’s vomiting up insides and then I pick through his puke (dog owner, this happens) and what do I find? Two plushy ears. Yeah. We watch him closely with his ginormous caterpillar stuffed animal now.



This is a larger elephant. He didn’t try eating it’s ears. Thank heaven.



To be quite boring with that title. Yep. Writer. I guess I could get more inventive with that. Psycho Writer. Choco-Writer. Zombie-Psycho-Choco-Writer.

I dunno.


I f I was Native American, it’d be:

….Actually I am Native American, so let me rewrite that. If I had a Native title, it would be…


Non-Affected by Adorable Faces

True story. Puppy dog eyes don’t work on me. Not from the puppy dog or the mallows. Yes, you are adorable of all adorableness, but no, you may not use the duct tape on the neighbor.


Walks into Walls

Sad but true. Being a zombie can be dangerous. Especially for walls.

Ha – and my last name has Wall in it. Ha ha! Okay… moving on.


Walls. I walk into these.

Walls. I walk into these.


Trips over Dog

Self explanatory. And I hate it when I do that! I feel so bad. Even though I just broke my face, elbows, knees and back, I’m just hoping he doesn’t hate my guts.


Wisher of Doings

Okay, this one is bad. There are so many things I wish I could do, could start, could be. But I just keep on wishing.


Talks in Sleep

Yep. A lot.


Laughs in Sleep

Amazing feat. Especially since I don’t wake up.


Sings in Sleep

Yes – I really do this! Apparently (since it’s not like I can hear myself when I’m unconscious) I sing in my sleep. And it doesn’t wake me up. Strangest thing ever!


Hater of the Talking on the Phone

Also self-explanatory. I will text and not be annoyed. Talking on the phone? I loathe it. You better have a good, amazing reason for calling me. Or I might stab you. Through the phone. Because that is the level of my grrrr.


This + Me Talking =

This + Me Talking =





Pterodactyl Swing

When in my freshman year of high school, I attempted a golf team residency (STOP LAUGHING!), I had a problem with my swing. When I hadn’t practiced for a while, we’d laugh and say it looked like a drunk pterodactyl who was trying to swing a golf club. Yeah.


Oh, oh, and also – not a title, but I told someone I’d explain this – when I was golfing once, I’d had a horrible run and was on the last hole. Close to the green, there was a group of geese, carrying on and making noise. I hit the ball – best hit of the entire day – and hit a goose in the head. It’s wings flailed like some comic book strip character and it got up and warbled away eventually. It was totally fine but the whole scene was hilarious. It was probably one of those things that you had to be there for it to be funny, but yeah.

I’ve also been attacked by a bumblebee on the green and no one saw. Even though there were three people and a teacher standing there with me. I was running around and trying to get it away from my face, yelling and they missed the whole thing. Brain damage anyone? They were three feet from me!

So dear golfing people, I’m not big on golfing.


Pterodactyl right here.

Pterodactyl right here.


Anywho – there are so many titles I could come up with, but that would take forever. Although I’m sure that as soon as I publish this post I will think of like five titles that would fit me way better.

What would your title be if you had one? Or do you already have one (many)?

Why is your title what it is?

(wow that grammar right there made my eyes bleed)


Filed under Stream of Consciousness