Twistedz

SPOILER ALERT!: At the end. You still don’t clean out the basement

Productivity junkies, self-help fanatics and those people that carry that innate ability to say things like ‘beautiful day isn’t it?!?’ while wearing a grin like a psychopath on speed even though it’s pissing down outside and their mother just died, all have one thing in common: They’re familiar with productivity books such as David Allen’s Getting Things Done and Steven Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People which capitalize on that broad niche of persons that will put off carrying out the trash to read a book about how to not procrastinate on important things like carrying out the trash.

Another such bestseller is Neil Fiore’s The Now Habit, a book where years of research and experimentation have culminated into the grand conclusion that if you want to get something done, now is probably the the best time.

Genius.

Now if you’re reading this blog you’re either a hyper-active teenager, a Facebook addict or a creepy, over-weight man in his mid-forties. In some special cases you might actually be all three. The point is people like you don’t have the time or the money to waste on things like reading flashy books that tell you things you already know or, you know,

Reading.

Which is why I’m telling you about this sure-fire, revolutionary way to make your body get up n’ go when all it wants to do is lay down n’ sleep or for some of you, log on n’ Farmville.

I’m going to tell you how my cat taught me the NOW habit.

But first let me tell you a little bit about my cat.

It has a voice like an angel. One that’s been a chain-smoker for thirteen years and then went and caught a cold.

Compared to its voice, a thousand nails on one chalkboard sounds like Beethoven’s 9th Symphony.

It doesn’t help if you try to put the cat outside. It’s voices pierces walls. It could penetrate a recording studio booth and carries the same effect as stumbling in on your grandmother pole-dancing.

Oh God, make it stop.

And when it’s actually inside.

Don’t even get me started.

It roots under pillows, slides under sheets. You can be sealed up tighter than a military bunker during the Cold War and that cat will find some way get in there and molest you.

It will not stop until you have dragged yourself out of bed and fed it and let me tell you, nothing says get off your lazy bum and move like a cat trying to probe the inside of your ear with it’s whiskers.

It is constant, consistent and punctual and for the last few weeks I have woken up at 6 am sharp with special allowances on weekends. 7am I was enjoying a pleasant dream involving chocolate and bunnies. 7:01 my ear drums exploded.

I used to put off waking up on mornings….now I’m afraid to go to sleep.

And you too can experience this satisfying result!!

If you want to kill your bad procrastination habit then all you have to do is invest in one of these, set feeding time to 6 am and tell slap a sticky-note with the task you’ve been putting off on the cat food bag.

Mine says ‘BUY ILL-MANERED GERMAN SHPHERD. ASAP.’

All you have to do is express interest in owning your very own Bloody Annoying Demon Cat and leave your address in the comments below and I will personally SEND you a cat that bears a startling resemblance to my own feline.

Here’s a picture of the evil bastard adorable little guy.

 

You know you want him.

Please?

I swear after the first two weeks you don’t even feel the blood leaking out of your ears.

Almost anyway.

You even get used to the bags around your eyes. And the screaming randomly in the middle of the night. And the funny looks people give you.

You might even get used to his voice.

Because sometimes…if you close your eyes and pray just a little bit…it can almost sound like Beethoven’s 9th Symphony.

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Some of you may have  noticed that the blog hasn’t updated in awhile. If you haven’t then please ignore the previous statement and rest assured in the knowledge that the blog has continued updating in a timely and orderly fashion.

Every leap year or so.

Partly due to the fact that school has started again and a lot of unwanted work has been dumped on me, and partly due to the fact that I’ve fell out of the swing of things.

Writer’s block and all that.

So to get back upon the metaphorical horse I’ll just be writing a rambling post about the first thing that pops into my head. Just so I can ‘hit’ publish and feel better about my rapidly declining self-esteem.

Read it and weep.

_____

It’s about that time again. That is, to say, mid-term break.

I’ve already put it out on twitter that I fully intend to sleep through the entire thing. Only got up today to water the toilet and decided to write this post before I went back to sleep because…you know…it just might be a tad bit overdue.

You’re probably wondering about the title and in case you weren’t, that was my semi-subtle way of getting you to wonder about the title.

I’m finding myself screaming a lot.

Well.

More than usual.

And it has nothing to do with the fact that my inconsiderate neighbour was blasting his/her horrendous dancehall music on a Sunday evening.

P.S? Vybz Kartel does not constitute easy listening.

Real Reasons Why I’m Screaming Include:

1. The Graciously Accepted Mid-Term Break

What’s supposed to be a time of fun and frolicking is met with scepticism and fear. Teachers generally use this time to channel Satan and inflict many, many painful assignments upon poor unsuspecting students.

This means that the time I would have otherwise spent relaxing is now devoted to

• My History SBA
• My Accounts SBA
• My Illustrated Art Research Paper
• Two History Assignments

Cue screaming.

I just want to watch Power Rangers dammit.

And those are just the things I remembered to write down. Not to mention the various lessons I still have that don’t stop just because The Powers that BE experienced a foreign burst of compassion and gave us the week off to try synchronized drowning.

Meanwhile, parental unit 2 bought a new car.

2. Mumz’ New Car

She’s got a new car y’all. It’s all white and shiny and spiffy and…and…shiny and WAY better than that other old thing she used to drive.

With the missing glove compartment door.

The stuck back window.

The anti-social CD player.

The A.C that asphyxiated.

I could write a thesis on everything that was wrong with that car.

But back to Mumz’ new ride.

With the tinted windows.

The spoiler.

The rimz.

With a ‘z’.

And these ones don’t make strange animal noises!

The horn sounds ridiculous though. Let me just say that. Like a goose that tried honking and realized too late that the air was heading the wrong direction. Is all I’m saying.

Mumz.

Get it fixed.

The other thing is that I keep having the strangest daydream about getting rammed by a pig just as we’re leaving home. No seriously. A pig. I blame Swine Flu.

It’s a sunny day. Gentle breeze. Sheep-like clouds graze in the sky. The car revs up. Gravel crunches under tires as we wheel onto the road. We cheer as the tires hit the black pavement and then…

Bam.

Flying pig to the side door.

Yeah.

I know.

Stay off the stale potato chips.

That’ll be easier now that we’ve got TV.

 3. We Got The Television Back. I Can Watch Power Rangers Now. Not That I’m Into That. Noo…

So three cars showed up on our lawn on Sunday. Guys poured out. Climbed on our roof. Raided our fridge. Poked the TV with a screwdriver and left.

TV’s working now.

It’s equal parts comforting and disheartening to note that nothing good still doesn’t show on TV.

A quick perusal of the stations we have shows exactly what we were watching before the TV went caput.

*click*

“When it comes to three year old John, you are the Father-!”

*click*

“And  then he just left! *hysterical sobbing*’”

*click*

“ ?!#@  %#$!* @?!&^”

Same old. Same old.

Degrassi still shows the world’s most dramatic school on the face of the planet complete with resident meth head and drama queen.

Nat Geo. is still covering topics no one cares about like Global Warming.

Pssh.

Back to Myles of Style.

_____

So yeah.

That’s about it.

You can stop crying now that I’ve finished ranting.

I suspect the blog will just update whenever from now on (read: in a timely and orderly fashion).

But…in the event that you see me lagging behind on posts feel from to muck up the comments sections with tirades about Irish lightbulbs or whatever.

Spam is readily accepted.

Guess I’ll go back to sleep now that I’ve finished writing this post.

Not like I have anything else to do anyways.

Power Rangers only shows on Saturday.

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There are like, no withdrawal symptoms. Ever.

Yeah I went there.

You’ve already been exposed to my Why I Hate Facebook post, nodding to yourself perhaps, as you agreed to many of the points made right before you added five thousand people you didn’t know to your friends list and got up to water the toilet.

Sigh.

You wound Twisted.

But it’s ok though.

I realize now that you have no control over your actions and deep, deep, deeeeee-

We’re talking Journey to the Centre of The Earth here people…

-eep down that you want to change.

Like the smelly crack addict in his mid-forties who wakes up to find himself in the local city dump, covered in filth and with rats shying away from his stench and thinks to himself:

‘Well maybe I should change this shirt.’

I know somewhere inside that dark, spiralling abyss you call a heart that you want to change your ways.

Which is where I come in.

I’ll start you on the path to Facebook salvation and pick up the pieces when your mind starts to defray.

Actually I’ll probably just grab a coffee and ask ‘And how does that make you feel?’ but at least I’ll start you on the path.

Good enough?

Then let’s begin.

Step 1: Accept the Fact That All Those People Aren’t Really Your Friends

Tough. I know.

But it’s for the best.

You don’t  know their names. You have no idea who these people are. If you’re completely honest with yourself you’ll admit that you only added that one guy because he looked kinda like Johnny Depp.

From a distance.

If you squint a bit.

In the dark.

Point is the man could be a stalker. Or your real birth father. Or Barney. You don’t want to meet any of these people so why would you add him in the first place?

Delete him from your friends list as fast as you can. Along with the other 4999 people that would run away briskly if they noticed you on the street.

Step 2: Realize That A Status Update At 3am Is Unacceptable

Unless it’s to say that you’re engaged to Katy Perry in which case refer to Rule 11 of the Internet.

Pics or it didn’t happen.

Seriously though guys, there’s really nothing interesting you can say at that kind of hour and it makes you look like a loser with nothing better to do.

Can you imagine what your Mom thinks when she logs onto Facebook at work to spy on your online activities and notices you’ve posted something at 3am.

That’s worse than coming home pregnant.

Or high.

Or failing every class at school.

Or coming home high and pregnant because you failed every class at school.

Plus I get pretty miffed when I log onto Facebook at 3am and I’m greeted with something asinine like:

‘Lol. Kanye totally pwned Taylor Swift at the Emmy’s.’

Yeah, thanks for that Captain Obvious.

You hear that sound?

That’s the sound of your I.Q dropping.

Step 3: Stop Adding Every Single Application You Get Invited To

Now.

Just stop.

Not only does it clutter up my stream with your virtual rubbish but despite you’re unexplainable aversion to sunlight, Vampire Wars will not confirm your long held suspicions of being a vampire.

Neither will Mafia Wars make you any more gangsta than wearing foil blingage and changing your name to Slightly-Aged Money.

It serves no purpose other than to get you to waste another four hours of  your life in between uploading random pictures of your cat and plants. Completely pointless.

So stop.

And stop trying to get me to join too.

There is a limit to our friendship and it’s called Farmville so cut it out.

Oh, and while I’m at it-

Step 4: Stop Having Those Annoying Photo Comment Conversations. They Drive Me INSANE You Silly, Unintelligent, Moronic-

Wow that kind of went to a scary place…

Let’s all calm down a bit and re-examine this step, this time taking out all the fighting words.

Woosah…

Hey guys!

I know you think it makes you look kinda cool and moderately loved when you actually having a “conversation” with real, live “people” online even if it’s only through photo  comments but see, here’s the thing. Everyone once in awhile, say about three hundred times a day, an innocent bystander like me will get tagged in one of those photos and then whoops! What do you know?

530 emails in my inbox sometimes only including such brilliantly profound remarks such as ‘lol’ and ‘omg’. I’ve even had an email that only contained the message ‘.’ Yeah. It was a dot.

Just. A dot.

Life-altering.

Step 5: Stop Cyber-Stalking

Hands up everyone who just went into an epileptic fit.

Hmm. Less than I thought, though I suppose that could be because you’re still twitching.

The last step and coincidentally the hardest one involves you utilizing your time in ways more constructive than ogling pictures of your ex.

Listen.

If she was dating you she can’t be that awesome.

Admit it.

She’s got a snaggletooth, eyes like a mole and she watches HGTV.

Really? Home and Garden Television? Who the fudge watches that anyway?

The only good show on that is Design Star

and Myles of Style

and Spice Up My Kitchen

I mean so I’ve heard.

But seriously dude? Let her go.

I know you think she might be the spitting image of Katy Perry but here’s the thing.

Pics or it didn’t happen.

_____

So there we have it.

One simple, easy to follow guide that will ensure you get your pitiable life back.

I’ll be here with a box of tissues in about three weeks time when your brain implodes and you’re crying all over yourself.

That or I’ll be watching Myles of Style.

Don’t worry though.

Check my Facebook status later at 3am when I update with

‘And how does that make you feel?’

_____

photo by StarMama

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