Anxiety Alleviator #1: Horned Toads that Squirt Blood from their Eyeballs When Angered

When angered, horned toads shoot blood out of their eyeballs. Obviously, this recently uncovered information means one thing and one thing only: I am getting a new pet.

(Who’s cool now, Paris Hilton? I bet your Parkinson’s afflicted Chihuahua seems pretty useless all of a sudden. I think we both know whose pet would when in a cage fight. That’s right, my reptilian pocket Doberman with projectile hemoglobin, that’s who.)

For the following idiots who have upset me over the last week or two, consider yourselves warned. My horned toad and I will be watching you.

In case you’re distracted by your goals of adding a new sport to the Special Olympics and getting your picture posted on the Megan’s Law website, let me just take a second to remind the two of you of why you will soon be sopping toad blood off your faces.

Idiot #1: You get on the elliptical next to mine when the whole row of twenty other elliptical machines is empty. You then proceed to crash through our shared mirror by pretending we’re in some retarded elliptical race that you can win only by taking the machine up to 400 m.p.h.

This causes me to laugh and I am in no position to laugh as I haven’t done laundry in a month and have resorted to wearing that which I’ve been avoiding, the dreaded pink Energizer Bunny sweat suit, accessorized with the only clean hand towel I could find, which also happens to be hot pink and therefore matches my Finger Bang Barbie nail polish. Making me laugh at your ridiculousness when I already look so ridiculous puts you one second away from the full force of my fury.

You look like an idiot flailing at top speeds in your near-successful attempt to become airborne. It’s like you really don’t understand why you’re not going anywhere. As you fling sweat into my space bubble, causing me to throw up in my mouth, your furrowed brow and pursed lips reveal how hard you’re concentrating on an inner monologue that screams, “Fly, elliptical machine! Fly!”

And for a second, it topples, and almost does. Yet, still, you are unsatisfied. You continue crashing about so violently that I can’t hear my iPod over your attempts to break the machine in half. What did NordicTrak ever do to you? What did I ever do to you?  Keep it up, my friend, and I swear you’ll be covered in more blood than an extra in Rambo IIIVVV and a hungry Dick Cheney let loose in a slaughter house combined. (That’s a lot of blood.) So just calm down there, Cracky, and consider yourself warned.

Idiot #2: Crash my party on the Fourth of July and eat my guacamole while telling me you only like seventeen-year-old girls. After admitting that you’re thirty-seven. What are you thinking? You look like an Asian Webster.

Either keep your pie hole shut or get a fake ID, moron. Better still would be your TV debut on To Catch a Predator and/or castration. Also, do not drag me out to my back balcony and say the following:

You: See that Range Rover down there? 

Me: Yeah?  

You: It’s pretty sweet, huh? What do you think about the color? 

Me: I don’t know it’s kind of ugly. What color is that? Burnt sienna?  

You [glib-like]: Yeah. It’s rad. I just bought it.  

Me: I guess you’ll give new meaning to the term Amber Alert. Where’s my horned toad?      

P.S. As tempting as it is to watch Walker reruns all day, I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you of yet another fact I’ve uncovered recently: You don’t have to be in bed to get bedsores.  In order to keep your eyes and ass from spurting blood, it’s a good idea to get up and walk around every twenty minutes. To further prevent blood loss from the aforementioned orifices, avoiding incarceration in a maximum security lockdown facility also helps.   

However, if you should find yourself starring in a new season of A&E’s Lockdown: Life on the Inside, please know, dear reader, that because I love you (and it’s the kind of thing I like to write about) I might just stop by for a conjugal visit. Unless, of course, you are my neighbor with the Range Rover or are serving time for any of the same reasons he will be if I can get my video camera to zoom in. Then you can suck it.

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