Jazzerscissor

The poisoned apple would have been chocolate milk. Think about it- how much of a tease is that? “Oh look! Milk! *slurp* *slurp*… waaaaiiiit a minute, I think I’m dying now. It was poisoned! What a jip!” Chocolate milk would just be a mean thing to make if all people were cats.

It’s kind of amazing how many wonderful, or at least harmless, things turn into horrifying torture devices.

Hug? I think I’m going to cry.

Try on clothes? Why don’t you just take a rake to me.

Bondage for BDSM? If you want to die trying. (Although this might happen without a sunburn too, but for a different reason.)

Punch buggy no punch backs? Curb stomp your face.

Climb a tree? Twigs are attacking my shoulders.

Tan in the park? Fuck you.

Go swimming? You exacerbate everything.

Hold this cat? Claws…

Sleep? No.

Take a bath in calamine lotion? End up in hospital probably.

Complain? … Yeah, sure, sounds good.

darksidelawyer replied to your post: You’re a derp!

HERP DERP CANCER SHMANCER EH

darksidelawyer replied to your photo: OOOH PLEEEAAASE SOMEONE COME KILL ME NOW OR AT…

DERP

I was.. I was petting cats at the shelter yesterday but, but, the smell… the smell was too much after awhile, so I went to take a break by walking the dogs out back in their fields and… I hadn’t planned on doing this, but, well, before I knew it, two and a half hours had gone by and I had been walking dogs, in a tank top, under the beating sun, for two and a half hours, and, and, it was too late, Darkside, it was too late! :( But I walked those poor dogs! I’M A HERO! You’re a derp.

christinaincorporated replied to your photo: OOOH PLEEEAAASE SOMEONE COME KILL ME NOW OR AT…

Oh, sweetie. Use refrigerated aloe and take Advil every six hours. Drink a lot of water and cover up.

See? Christina’s nice. Christina’s HELPFUL. (Although I don’t think you’re supposed to ingest aloe, Christina, not to mention vodka’s much more potent and effective.) And she’s a sexy beast. More so than you, Darkside, MUCH more so than you. Thanks Christina :) my skin burns so easily that I’ve gotten to know how to take care of it (sunscreen being the number one thing I use, even though I hate the smell) and aloe is actually very nice. That and calamine lotion.

(And, you know, Darkside, just ‘cause she’s sexier doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still call me.)

NOT KISSES WITH A SIDE OF BEARD STUBBLE, THAT’S FOR SURE.

This is why only a mother’s kiss cures booboos.

That saying becomes a lie as soon as one dares utter it with sincerity. Everyone has things they would never dream of trying, not even once. There are some things so horrible that they’re not worth doing; they’re not worth the risk of losing what we value. The funny thing about values, though, is that they differ from person to person. Consequently, so does the list of things each of us want to try at least once. And so do the things each of us would deem insane to try at all.

It all depends on values.

I talked to Devon about this tonight. I told him I had things I would probably do if I could, once, or at least once, in my life. I’d streak in public. I’d crash a wedding. I’d moon a politician on camera. I’d belt out songs of compliments to strangers on the streets, and hand them a rose, just because. I’d do many things that aren’t acceptable in public just to see and laugh at how people react to such harmless pranks. I’d also do things for me, though. I told him I’d go skydiving. I’d gallop across a long field on a horse. I’d save a life. I’d teach a kid to read. I’d sleep with a woman. I’d cut myself once to feel, see, watch what happens. I’d do cocaine.

He asked “why would you want to try that?”

“To know how it feels,” I replied.

He argued “But you could die! It’s dangerous.”

“So are a lot of things, and most of us do those every day,” I replied.

He asked “is it really that important that you need to do it?”

“Is anything?” I replied.

And I meant it. It all depends on values. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to hurt myself, and that’s why I have my own list of things I would never dream of doing. Things like meth, or playing Russian roulette, or other things where the odds are stacked too high against me. One could say the risks I’m willing to take are already too high, but I’d argue they are no higher than the ones people take every day. The difference is that I’m gambling with the length of my life, whereas others are risking something different like their salaries, or careers, or family, or reputation. The difference is that my quality of life comes from how much, in every sense of the word, I can feel, not from how much I can prolong my existence. I’d rather die at 30 than 90, if I have to, rather than live a low-quality life (and have the dreadful state last longer at that) where I don’t get to feel everything. I could lie and tell everyone this is a joke, and I’ll be good, and I’ll never do such a dangerous thing as cocaine, but the truth is that I don’t know yet. I’ll have to see where my values are at when the opportunity comes. And I don’t think there’s anything to regret about that; if the odds beat me, then I’m no different than a lot of people in life. Even the ones who don’t risk their lives.