Zombie Poop

Warning: Contains Comical Graphic Images

So I was binging and watching The Walking Dead, which by the way, I am now caught up on. When I got to thinking about the mechanics of zombies. I came to the conclusion that zombies just could not be plausible. But before that I was thinking even for them to be slightly possible they'd have to poop. Being as how they work on the most base of brain power then I'm assuming they just walk and poop at the same time like a horse.

I got into a discussion about it with The Man, I can't remember exactly how it went but it was interesting. Essentially, zombies are the dead brought to life with only the most base of human instinct: to eat. The problem that led me to the conclusion they must poop is this: since they are dead nothing in the body is processing anything, so if they continuously eat eventually the stomach will become distended, if they still continue to eat than they would pretty much pop. When I said this The Man pointed that perhaps the zombie disease made them perfect machines with no waste. I pointed out how could a perfect machine be dead? Nothing in the system is moving or working as it should, it couldn't absorb or process the flesh.

So then say the zombie disease causes basic functions to somehow work, like digestion then they would process it but there would probably still be waste, if zombies were getting some kind of nutrition from their diet they probably wouldn't rot, right? So if we wanted perfect zombie eating machines they would need to digest food, and not rot if they continuously ate, and not poop either.

Anyway I'm still confused about it but it would explain why I've never really been a big fan of zombies, it just doesn't seem plausible or workable in any way. There are other fantastic things I see as being within the realm of possibility. Like Werewolves, there are already people with hair disorders so they are furry all over, but I don't think it would be changing at the full moon or anything like that. That's just Bull. Anyway, they probably just shave a certain time and by the time the full moon rolls around all their hair has grown back so they go on an angry rampage because they don't want to shave it all off again. I'd imagine razor burn on your butt cheeks sucks.

Vampires are somewhat possible, not in a supernatural way. There are two diseases, one where a person needs blood and another where they are essentially allergic to the sun. Imagine one poor soul has both of these diseases. What a bummer. Can't go out in the sun, crave blood. I'd imagine people would find that rather strange and fall on old habits, despite the fact this poor person just has terrible luck. He or she would likely be chased by a mob of ignorant and very angry people.

So for me werewolves and vampires are likely exaggerated truths but I don't understand zombies. I read a lot on it you have no idea, some believe it stems from voodoo, or hoodoo which is interesting. And others think it stem from unsure medical practices where the living were buried. For a while they even installed bells so if a person "woke up dead", they could pull the rope and hopefully someone would come and un-bury them.

So for me when it comes to zombies I am convinced the most logical thing is that they get distended bellies and pop like a balloon. Or that there is some zombie poop in the road that movies don't acknowledge.

So how do you like my Zombies? I took some time with these, probably not the best but-hey-at least you get the visual.

Strange Happenings

Thought I might share a story with you. Maybe more if I feel like it. Alright, so if you don't already know I work in a convenience store, I'm kind of a register jockey but a little bit of everything really. I have to deal with large amounts of people on a regular basis.

I believe it was Sunday morning, this Sunday just past. I was working the 9 to 5 shift and this lady ran up to the counter holding a gallon of 2 percent milk. She slides it up on the counter and stares at me anxiously as I ring the milk up. I ask her if she wants to use debit or credit it and she cringes like I've startled her. I thought perhaps she just hadn't woken up yet-you know-not had the morning coffee or what have you. She says credit and fumbles her card through the machine. I give her a receipt to sign and a copy for herself. This is where it gets odd.

Instead of signing her receipt she says "The milk is always bad here" only she kind of rambles it all out in one word really fast "THEMILKISALWAYSBADHERE". I look at her confused and I check the date, it was marked for the 30th a good 12 days from that Sunday. I tell her it looks okay.

She still hasn't signed her credit receipt. She says it all Speedy Gonzales like again, then cracks the gallon open and starts sniffing it. At this point I'm already thinking she's crazy, why would you keep buying milk from the same place if it is always bad? So she insists I smell the milk because "it smells bitter" only again more Speedy Gonzales "ITSMELLSBITTER". So I pull the now open gallon of milk over and smell it. The milk was perfectly good, there were no odors at all. She was not pleased to hear I smelled nothing.

At this point she gets even weirder. She grabs this open gallon of two percent milk off the counter and swigs out of the bottle. Then promptly makes a whiskey face and says "THISMILKISBADITTASTESBITTER" (this milk is bad it tastes bitter), I tell her "Ma'am I didn't smell anything and it's in date I'm not sure what you want me to do". So she starts insisting I taste the milk. First of all I don't know where this crazy ladies mouth has been, second of all she just swigged out of that bottle like I used to swig rum, there was no way in hell I was going to taste that milk. 

The manager is still in so I tell her to hang on a second and let me go ask him what I should do in this situation. You have to think, as far as I can tell there is nothing wrong with this milk, the lady is a nut-job, and I can't sell it to anyone else because she opened it and drank straight from the jug.

So I go get the manager and tell him something's up and he comes to talk to her himself. She does the same thing to him. Speedy Gonzales the milk is bad, it smells bitter, it tastes bitter, taste the milk. We are left with no choice but to refund the crazy milk lady her money.

After all this I have to convince her she needs to sign the first receipt that she never signed, and then I have to explain that I'll need to refund it through her credit card, which also prints a receipt she needed to sign. She didn't kick up a fuss about it but she did go back into the weird, spacey, anxious state she was in when I startled her with "Debit or Credit".

When she left I have to say we certainly laughed about the situation but I am still very confused what was wrong with this lady. I'm grateful she was-at the very least-not belligerent.

It's My Birthday!

No biggie, it is just my birthday right? I thought about spamming you all with birthday related songs, pictures and annoyances but decided I better not. I will make no promises because I might change my mind later.

I haven't even slept yet, but I've only been awake for about 16 hours anyway so what difference does it make? Last year I wasn't able to do anything on my birthday and a few days later when everyone wanted to try and surprise me I kind of ruined it by not wanting to leave the house. The Man finally broke down and told me our friends were trying to surprise me. I think out of sheer stubbornness and grumpiness that no one wanted to do anything ON my birthday I felt like pouting and not leaving the house.

Generally speaking I'm pretty stable but when I feel something, like really feel something, I kind of enjoy wallowing in it for a little while. My definition of a little while can be anywhere from two minute to two hours but that's about it. Does that even make sense?

I like to wallow in self-pity, doubt, fear, or anger for a little while. I anger, I pout, I shake, I rage, I get over it and move on with my life. It's why I like to just go with it and be by myself. The feeling is so intense that if I roll around in it, smell it, and snuggle it for a little while it pretty much goes away.

One of my quirks I guess. I am actually really hard to surprise because I am so headstrong I end up being accidentally uncooperative. I also ask a lot of questions most of the time. You can surprise me I just have to know it's coming. If I know something is happening, but I don't really know what I'll cooperate and go with it just to find out what it is.

It's weird. I actually don't remember very many of my birthdays.0.o I remember last year, but the rest just kind of blur together as a mass of disappointment. Not through anyone elses fault mind you, mostly because I'm broke as a joke and it isn't a funny one. Almost always have been though so nothing new to me.

I grew up so broke we entertained ourselves with sticks and crap like that. One time my parents left me to mind all 5 of the youngers. When they came home all my siblings were in a tree and I was pacing around the bottom of said tree with a stick. I had convinced them all it was a game. I don't remember what it was now, but if they tried to come down I started poking them with the stick. Wasn't I a great babysitter? The house wasn't a wreck (no more than usual anyway), none of the kids were missing, and when my parents came home we were all there to greet them.

So without further ado I have a picture of a blurry photo of all of them up in the tree.

Told you it was blurry. Anyway here are some other pictures you might enjoy:

Just to explain: we were moving and I was crammed into the passenger seat like a sardine. Everything I am holding (and the helmet I am wearing) is there because there was no place else to put it. The Man says I was adorable, I think I look creepy and kind of like I want to kill someone.


And here is one of our cats being cute, fat, and lazy:

Spam. How I hate thee.

I hate checking my spam folder. Sometimes I have to, just to make sure something important didn't accidentally get stuck in the spam folder. *Sigh* So I was checking that today and thought I might share a picture and an analysis with you.

Let's start with the first fact: volume. Do you see I have 93 pieces of junk e-mail? I emptied this the day before yesterday when there was over 2000 because I don't remember when I emptied it before that.

Let's move on to the highlighted sections.

Yellow: Social Security Disability. Who is this directed at, might I ask? Do they assume all people dumb enough to fall for scams are old? :| From what I understand at 26, I won't be getting social security anyway so this one is irrelevant. Barring some horrible accident, I won't be getting disability any time soon either.

Pink: ONLINE INCOME! Holy Cow! I need to get in on this! However, if you look up in my bookmarks bar you see a tab that says "Virtualassistantjo.." Yea. That's a link to a website I use in my effort to find online jobs. Over the past month I've probably put in 100 application through there. I'm not having much success with this. By the way, if you happen to be looking for someone to work for you online shoot me an e-mail.

Kind of bums me out really, it's hard trying to do school and go somewhere for work and still manage time for a blog and other interwebby things.

Blue: Free Sandwich! Sign me up! Seriously though, I love to eat, if this wouldn't give my computer tech-AIDS I would legitimately consider clicking on this email. Free food = no complaints. Really though, who falls for this?

Green: I wonder about the stability of a website that sends out spam emails. This is shot-gunning spam too. A high ratio of people are Christian but what about people that aren't? I want to sign up for it and just make a profile that says I worship Satan. It's a form of Christianity because Satan is in Christian religion. Can you imagine the "About Me" section I could create?

About Me for Samantha the Satanist:

Hi, I'm a Satanist, but I get along with everyone, well, actually I kind of ignore everyone. I pretty much do my own thing and thought since I keep getting e-mails from here I would sign up. Satanism is a form of Christianity you know. I like to read, have Satanic Cult meetings, and write poetry. I'm ideally looking for other Satanists, but as long as you don't pressure me for anything and we can still have sex I'm cool with it.

Orange: Unless my mother lied to me when I was a kid I was born with the wrong equipment for this. I guess with this kind of stuff you have a 50/50 chance of reaching your target audience. 0.0

~End Rant~

I'm mobile!

This is just a random blurb. Now you know I have the app on my phone. If I ever get popular this will come in handy. :)

Otherwise, its just another means of making me sad.

Please, don't make the ginger sad. You wouldn't like her when she's sad.

Here is a picture of a customers zombie gnome shirt.

5 Reasons to Play Dead

Playing dead is a concept most people are fairly familiar with. I'm not sure of the validity of some of these but I'm still going to share them with captions. :)

1). According to all the old cartoons I used to watch you play dead so you won't be attacked by a bear!

I would probably run.

 Honestly, if a bear were to come near me I would probably run screaming, which is also probably not the wisest course of action; however, I am also not very sure of the validity in playing dead here.





2). If you are a scared opossum.

Probably the most awesomely drawn awesome opossum EVER!

Opossums play dead, I have seen this. Although, I am not sure of the mechanics. Maybe they just faint or something.

Nasty creatures.






3). You wake up in the middle of the night and hear something you don't want to hear.

Just anything really, you wake up when you were a kid because you have to pee and over hear your parents doing the horizontal mambo, yea, that is a great time to play dead. Put a pillow over your head and pretend some evil murderer snuck into your room and suffocated you to death. Vividly imagine how terrible that would be for everyone, envision your funeral, and pretend you go to Valhalla. Whatever floats your boat because it has to be better than the reality of your parents being a little too happy in the other room.

4). Someone comes to wake you up in the morning.

It's before Noon why are you so cheerful anyway?

You could pretend to sleep but then you are forced to pretend like you are waking up when they come shake you. It is much simpler to play dead. When they come to shake you just stay limp and dangly like. Hopefully, they just panic and run away and you can go back to sleep.






5). To get out of stupid arguments you don't want to be involved in anymore.

I actually have done this before, it works rather well. A few times when The Man and I have been in some frivolous debate I simply got tired of it. I didn't see the point over debating who left the ketchup out on the counter. It's ketchup. It doesn't need to be refrigerated, it will survive the apocalypse and nuclear fall out. One night on the counter isn't going to hurt it. I looked him dead in the face and said "I don't feel like arguing anymore", then I flopped over, went limp and played dead.

He got really frustrated but I kept playing dead. Then he started whining that it wasn't fair and I still kept playing dead. Then he started laughing and hugged me. For me playing dead worked pretty well for stopping dumb debates.

I showed him this picture and he said "Oh. You playing dead." He gets so enthused about my doodles.

Customer Service

Warning: This post probably won't be so much funny as relatable.

Anyone that has worked with the general public knows what kind of butt heads there are out there. Some people just can't be pleased no matter how hard you try. Many times at the end of the day I end up feeling so defeated because I am forced to plaster a kind face on and be nice to people treating me like garbage.

Right now I have a menial job as a register jockey. What people don't seem to understand is I do more that just run a register. I clean, stock, front and face, take orders, handle cash, and do paper work. On top of this I have to plaster a kind face on and be nice to people that yell at me for things that are not my fault. For example: if they come in and don't know what pump they are on I have to do my best to figure out which one it is. I always ask to verify "That red truck over there?", "The tiny black car up here?" I only have 10 pumps to begin with so it usually isn't that hard. Sometimes people are busy chatting with other customers or yapping away on their cell phones. When I ask, I get the verification and put it on the pump. Sometimes its the wrong pump. When that happens I usually end up with a situation kind of like this:

When this happens I usually do my best to soothe them. Despite the fact I know it was their own mistake, I have to placate them and accept the blame for something that was not my fault to begin with.

While this is going on, I generally have a plethora of ideas going through my mind.

Generally, I'm thinking if they had shut their facehole for five seconds and paid attention to what I was asking this mistake would not have happened. I often find myself wondering why people continue to go into the same store if they have as many problems in that specific store as they claim. Finally, I usually wonder if they come in so often how is it they aren't aware that a manager is frequently not present?

However, I usually end the conversation by being a weenie. I soothe their irritated nerves, take the blame, fix whatever problem they may be having if it is within my power to do so then I tell them:

Sometimes I wish I wasn't such a wimp when it comes to my job, but I'm really a pushover.

Oh well. I drew some things to cheer myself up you wanna see what they are?

Doesn't that make you happy too?

Couples' Quirks

I think every couple has some weird quirk they tend to do with each other. The Man I Will One Day Marry (The Man henceforth) and I are not outside of this observation. Nomming, pinching, licking, staring, and playing dead are all things we have done. Would you like me to explain? No!? I'm going to explain anyway so leave then!

The Man used to lick my eyeball. I have no idea why this habit started, it annoyed me and I overreacted to it and I think that just encouraged him to continue to do so.

Somehow I think my screaming in agonized pain (I know that’s redundant but that's how much that crap hurts!) about the burning his saliva caused simply amused him. So I started licking his eye and it became an eyeball licking war. We would lie in wait and ambush each other only to hold the other down for a moment to lick the eye and then run away laughing like mad.

There was no home base the only time either was safe...was in the bathroom. The area neither one of us will breach for any purpose. We couldn't hide in there forever. There were many brief truces for the sake of avoiding coming-out-of-the-bathroom-ambushes.

These did not last long. The war always: no, inevitably continued.

We had a point where he had licked my eye and was waiting in fear for my revenge. Every time I was close I could stick my tongue out and watch him cringe in momentary fear that I was going to lick his eye.

I'm not sure how long my psychological torture continued. I think perhaps it was only a few days but it could have been as much as two weeks. I was sitting in his lap for a cuddle at one point and threatened to lick his eye, when he laughed at me. He actually laughed. This was not just any laugh; this was not a laugh of joy. This was a mocking laugh. This was the "nya-nya-nya-nya-nya-nya you can't get me kind of laugh". He then proceeded to say:

A glasses shield? The hell you say! Well I let him sit there to think as he would for a few minutes. Honestly, I was taken aback. A glasses shield? Who are you to tell me I can't do something because of a little piece of glass wrapped in wire rims.

Then I slowly leaned in smiling. He still looked smug. I slowed down even more and halted with my mouth almost pressed to the lens of his glasses.

He smirked.

I stuck my tongue out and pressed it to the lens of his glasses and then curled it under the rim and licked his eye. Glasses shields are no match for the tongue-war master.

I haven't really had to worry about him trying to lick my eyes since then. I get the occasional threat but I have a sneaky suspicion he learned his lesson after that one.

Update: The Man has taken this to be a challenge, I now fear for the safety of my eyeballs.

Smoking commercials: An analysis on why the media is selling cigarettes to our youth

Have you seen any of those no smoking commercials? They had some with people making huge conglomerated masses of themselves and then falling to the ground and playing dead, monkey's packing cigarettes, and the latest ploys... they have people with amputated limbs, immobility issues, and tracheotomy holes with strange voices.

Maybe I was a really strange little kid but if we had those commercials when I was little they would have only served to encourage me to smoke.

In my tiny child brain it would not have been health problems. To my child brain these things would have been thought of like this:

 

  See how the media is mistaken? The message is clear to adults and even older children but these commercials are not discouraging. Had I been a child and seen this commercials my child-logic would have encouraged me to begin smoking much younger. Congratulations television, you are convincing millions of little boys and girls to pick up smoking because your commercials make them cool. Nice going.

P.S. 

This is called satire if you can't tell on your own.