So I was watching Kim Possible on Disney while ago and something occurred to me. I hope it never falls on me to save the world from anything. It sounds like a lot of work and has the potential to be rather unpleasant. I see the possibility of having to involve myself with a much higher level of physical activity than I I'm comfortable with. There is also the probability that I would be required to wear pants. The real deal breaker however is not being able to stop and have my nap. Even though I can't imagine a 'Melvin saves the world' scenario, it is possible I guess. If such a situation where to arise, I think it would behoove mankind to look for a plan B as I would very likely choose not to participate. To be fair, mankind should have known that to begin with.

From here forward my double-wide Melvin Manson will be referred to as "Melvin's Lair of Nefarious Naughtiness."  Please adjust all aspects of your miserable lives accordingly.

Melvin's Adventures with Bronchial Pneumonia.

Day 1
I just got back from the doctor. I went over there because I am sicker than any human being that has ever lived on Earth. After I got all checked in, the doctor lady came in and went to work. She took out several chicken feathers and a string of rats teeth from a drawer and shook them at me. She threw them on the counter and studied the way they happened to fall. She then made me get on the table where she sat a small black rodent on my back. After a few minutes she consulted with the rodent and said you have a lot of congestion. I said that's good right? She said no. At that point the doctor lady left the room. In just a minute the nurse lady came in with two giant hypodermic needles. She filled them with noxious, putrid, steaming, liquid drawn from two identical black cauldrons. Before I had the chance to even ask she threw me on the table and jammed both needles in my ass cheeks. I did not enjoy that as much as you might think. Then she brought out this hose contraption and a little box that made a buzzing noise. She made me sit in a chair and breathe smoke through this hose. I suspect it was dragon's breath. Used to make my lungs fireproof so that they wouldn't turn to leather before tomorrow. She said I would have to return tomorrow to see what was going on and if the potions now swimming around in my scrawny ass had actually done anything. Then she said something about removing my lungs and having them washed off in a pan of green alcohol. I told her I thought it was a good idea. Before I left the doctor lady confirmed to me that I was the sickest human she had ever seen in her career. And there were people in the cemetery who were not as sick as me. She also confirmed that I had the plague. She didn't say what kind. Maybe she will know tomorrow.

Phlegm. Phleeegm. Ffffflegm. Phlegmy phlegm. Phlegmy McPhlegmface. You ever notice that when you say a word over and over it starts sounding silly after a while?

Day 2
It's a beautiful day to feel like shit. After another miserable night of coughing. At one point I died. I mean my heart stopped then I stop breathing. Luckily, the Cat saw me and ran to the bathroom, grabbed the toilet bowl plunger, jumped up on my chest, yelled "CLEAR!" and started plunging on my chest. Got me going again in 15-20 minutes. So I was lucky on that one. Pretty quick thinking for a cat, really. He came back and jumped up in my lap a few minutes later and looked into my eyes. I thought we were going to have, you know, a 'moment'. He squinted his eyes a little bit and said "I own you now". I said "yeah, so what else is new".
I have to go back to the doctor now and see what magical shit we're going to do next. I'm pretty sure she's going to call for an exorcism.

Two more shots in my delicate little ass. More dragon breath. Now waiting for chest Xray. Just conjecture on my part, but I suspect that both lungs have collapsed, all my blood has turned to snot, and my brain has atrophied to the size of a peanut. OK that last one may not be related.

Day 3 - 6
I died. But I got better.

Day 7
Finally getting better. Bronchial pneumonia is a decidedly sucky thing to have. By consuming twice my body weight in steroids and antibiotics I did at least manage to stay out of the hospital. I still have a couple of weeks to deal with the aftermath of the steroids. They do NOT play well with my psych medications. Batshit crazy and breathing or nicely medicated and smothering. No contest - heeers JOHNNY!

Day 8 - 16
It has been pointed out to me on several occasions, that I might have a propensity to overshare a bit. That there are things best not mentioned that I mention. Regularly. I will try to keep that in mind. So, I have this huge snot wad in my snorkalophagus pipe. At some point during the last week it has become sentient and subsequently possessed by a particularly tenacious demon. Now, I have not studied demonic snot wads enough to know whether they have little claws like a lizard or little suction cups like an octopus or little round sticky pads like tiny green frogs. I suppose it is even possible that it has afixed itself in place with duct tape or perhaps Gorilla Glue. Whatever the case, it has not allowed me to extricate and expectorate as is my fervent desire. Never in the history of mankind has anyone ever wanted to "hock & phloooie" a demonically possessed snot wad out the back door and across the yard as I do at this moment. We all have our personal demons and our internal battles I guess.


There are some naughty words. I am too lazy to count them up. Screw you.

5:30 in the morning, and I have been up all night watching the most frighteningly stupid movies I could possibly find. The nail biter I'm currently watching is cleverly named "The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and became Mixed-up Zombies". It is true. I swear it on my disproportionately scrawny ass. I could not possibly make up a title like that.

Some good has come out of it though. I have been inspired to create my own artistic endeavor. The retelling of "Godzilla" through interpretive dance. I'm planning a one-man show with a great deal of gratuitous nudity and violence. It's going to be artsy as hell. And you know I'm all about the arts.

Naughty words:

• Ass
• Hell

Most brilliantly nefarious scheme ever. The aliens are going to beam me up to the North Pole. I'm going to infiltrate Santa's workshop disguised as an elf. Then I'm going to steal the list of all the naughty girls. Turns out aliens like naughty Earth girls.

So I decided that tonight would be a good night for some "nuke and eat" noodles. Mainly because there's nothing else in the house to eat. And by nothing I mean cat food. I'm not quite there yet. Anyway, I get me a pot, throw some noodles in it, put some water in there, like the package said, added a plop of butter, like the package said, and nuked the hell out of it, like the package said. Guess what? It sucked. It tasted like feet. This was a job for Old Bay Man! Yeah, I dumped a shitload of Old Bay in there on my noodles. Stirred um up and tasted them. Bam! Instant Blob of Noodley Goodness. I found a piece of bread with no green stuff and consumed my noodles and non-green bread with a generous portion of loud smacky noises.

The moral of the story is two fold. First, Old Bay is the true savior of shitty cooking. And second, get up off your lazy ass Melvin, and go to the damn grocery store.


Naughty words:
Hell
Shitload, shitty
Ass
Damn

Christmas Concerns

I don't know what figgy pudding is. But I do not believe I would occupy someone's home and swear not to leave until my demands for it are met. That just doesn't seem to fall within the parameters of Christmas spirit as I understand it.

Another Christmas Oddity that I find objectionable is to have my little hall decked with limbs full of pokey leaves that would scratch my legs and make it difficult to go to my potty to pee. I do not know how this could be festive. I'm sure it would be quite bothersome and unpleasant.

Another thing I believe should be cleared up is the issue of gay apparel. Now don't get me wrong. I am not homophobic by any means. I think Love Is Love and everybody should be happy. However, I am a confident heterosexual. Aside from the trying on of random tiaras from time to time, I am quite happy with the manly man clothing l usually wear.

I should also mention that I'm not at all comfortable with some stranger knowing when I'm sleeping and knowing when I'm awake and knowing when I'm good and knowing when I'm bad. First of all what is his definition of bad. We might have vastly differing opinions on that subject. I do not believe I should be held to someone else's standard of behavior. To have someone stalking me is bad enough, but for that person to be judging me on what he sees is a whole new level of creepy.

Roasted chestnuts and pumpkin pie suck and snow at any time of year is a pain in the ass. I could go on but I think I'm going to sit down with a drink and watch the Grinch.

Naughty words :
Shit 1 time