I am Orangutan

It’s finally reached the breaking point, boiling over, filling me with rage.  I want to shout it loud and clear: YOU CANNOT BE OCD!!!  Not possible.  OCD, or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, is a NOUN.  That is like saying “I am apple” or “I am orangutan.”  It doesn’t work!  Unless, of course, you are an orangutan who has mastered the basics of English but still stumbles over little things like articles, in which case I applaud you, Sir Ape.  Congratulations on achieving something so monumental.  Surely you are the envy of your ape peers.

Furthermore, if you say you are obsessive compulsive (which is the right way to say that, if not “I have OCD.”) then you are probably still wrong.  Let me break it down: Obsessions are the thoughts.  The ones you can’t get rid of.  They invade your brain, leaving room for nothing else.  The only way you can stop them is if you do something.  And that is where the compulsion part comes in.  A compulsion is a thing you do to help drive out the obsessive thought.  For example, there was once a man who had to drive over a single speed bump on his way to work every morning.  And every time he drove over that speed bump, he had the same obsessive, invasive thought: What if that was a person I just ran over?  He thought about it so much that he had to turn and go around the block again just to double check that it was a speed bump and not a person.  This would be an obsession followed by a compulsion.  Even worse, as soon as he went over the bump again, he had the same thought: Was it a person?  He would go back over that same speed bump so many times that it made him late for work.  In the end, he began waking up earlier in the morning just so he could accommodate this hour-long, obsessive-compulsive delay and still arrive to work on time.

That, my friends, is Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

It is not:

Wanting to finish eating your hamburger before starting on your fries.

Wanting all your pencils to be sharp.

Cleaning your room regularly.

Watching every episode of a show in order.

FURTHERMORE, it is definitely not a disorder unless it meets the three D’s: Deviant, Dysfunction, Distressful.

In other words, if it doesn’t fuck up your life in a major way, it’s not a disorder.

So stop abusing OCD.  People who really have it will thank you.  People who don’t have it should be glad they don’t spend six hours a week driving over the same speed bump.  I don’t care if you can only listen to Britney Spears music while wearing pink socks.  That might make you weird, but it doesn’t give you the right to self-diagnose with a serious disorder.

In other news, I’d like to take a quick second to thank everyone who has supported my blog this far.  I recently surpassed 200 followers, which doesn’t seem like a lot, but it is to me because I started this thing with zero.  And I don’t really do a lot of self promotion, or comment regularly on other blogs, so 200 is a big accomplishment for me.  So thank you.  And please excuse the rant.

Love,

Bex

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Filed under Grammar, Humor, Language, writing

The Hitman

Last night I couldn’t sleep.  I tossed and turned ’til about four or five in the morning.  It got to the point where I was so desperate to fall asleep that I tried to tell myself a story (in my head, not out loud).  At first I started, “Once upon a time there lived a princess…” but I didn’t like that, so I changed it.  And when I still couldn’t sleep, I drew pictures to illustrate it in my head.  The finished product is here for you today.  Can’t believe I remembered it!

[Begin Story]

Once upon a time there was a hitman.

Hitman 1

The Hitman was very sad because he lived in Solvang, California, and the general population of elderly people and tourists never needed anyone killed.

Hitman 2

Still, The Hitman did not lose hope that his business would one day take off.  He’d never actually killed a person before, but he was sure he could do it.

Meanwhile, to make ends meet, he got a job working the front desk at a local inn.

Hitman 3

But the phone never rang.

Hitman 4

He got so desperate that he tried posting flyers around town.

Hitman 5

But that didn’t work either.

Hitman 6

The Hitman began to give up hope that he would ever get a hit.  Then one day, his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, are you that guy who advertises as a hitman?” asked the man on the other end.

“Yes,” The Hitman said excitedly.  “Did you need someone killed?”

“I’ll say!  Someone keeps sneaking into my yard at night and vandalizing it.  I’d like to have him taken care of, if you know what I mean.”

“Absolutely,” said The Hitman.  “Have you ever seen the vandal before?”

“No, but he comes every night after we go to sleep.  You can sit on the porch and wait for him.  He’ll show.”

The Hitman excitedly took down the man’s address and phone number.  They discussed rates for a bit, and then they hung up.

That very night, The Hitman went to the man’s house, sat on the porch, and waited.

Hitman 6

Sure enough, around midnight, he heard a rustle in the bushes.  Feeling his heart beat faster, he stood up and quietly snuck up behind the source of the rustling.  Both the vandal and The Hitman were in for a surprise.

Hitman 7

The Hitman took one look at the pup and sighed.

Hitman 8

Hitman 9

After that night, The Ex-Hitman never regretted giving up on his dream.  He decided to throw all his efforts into the inn business, and soon he was able to start his own.

Hitman 10

His business was successful.  He was happy.  His customers were happy.  And Pup was happy.  It is safe to say that they lived happily ever after, even though The Ex-Hitman never got to kill anyone.

Hitman 11

THE END

So now you know why I haven’t posted anything new in weeks.  It took me so, so long to draw all this.  But I am ridiculously happy with the finished result despite the fact that this project was completely and utterly pointless.  I was even going to put a comic at the end, but honestly I can’t even think about drawing more right now.  You’ll get a comic next time.  Also, not that it matters, this post was written the day after I came up with the story, but it’s being published many days later, due to the aforementioned drawing time.  So it wasn’t really just last night that I came up with the idea, but the meaning doesn’t really change, so I guess this was a pointless tangent.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my little story!  Bye for now!

Word of the Day: Caprice (n) – a sudden, unpredictable change, as of one’s mind or the weather.

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Some Open Letters

I didn’t originally intend this post to be an homage to Allie Brosh, but I realized after writing it in my head that I couldn’t possibly not mention her.  She was writing posts like this one long before I started blogging.

Anyway, here are my letters:

Dear Other Dog Owners,

My dog is not always friendly towards other dogs.  Don’t get me wrong; he loves people.  If he met you on the street (sans dog), he would think you were his new best friend.  He’d probably sit on your foot and gaze up at you adoringly, hoping you’d start petting him and never stop.  But if he sees another dog, he can get aggressive or territorial.  This is why I always walk him on a leash.  And I have a corrective collar attachment that helps me keep him under control (squirrels and cats are also in danger, after all).  I also turn and walk away if I see another dog being walked nearby.  But all this means nothing if your dog is free to come over and get murdered.*  Please, please, PLEASE put your dog on a leash when you walk him or her.

“But he’s a good boy.  He never leaves my side!” you might say.

But what if he does?

“Oh, she always comes when I call her.”

But what if she doesn’t?

Listen, it’s obviously a tremendous burden to take two extra seconds to put a leash on your dog, but breaking up a fight is worse, right?  Just think on it, okay?  One menial task could save all of us a lot of grief.

Love,
Bex

Dear (Probably Drunk) People Who (I Guess) Have Made a Hobby of Breaking Glass Bottles on the Sidewalk,

I wear shoes.

My dog doesn’t.

Dog in shoes

You guys are assholes.

Love,
Bex

Dear Lady Who Left Her One-and-a-Half-Year-Old Son in His Stroller OUTSIDE the Teavana While You Went in to Order a Drink,

I have a short list of words here for you, and they’re all related in some way.  Let’s see if you can guess what that relation is:

1. Pedophiles

2. Kidnappers

3. Child Molesters

4. Pedophiles who kidnap children so they can molest them*

5. Crowded malls with women who are conveniently not near their children or paying attention in any way

Can you guess what all these things have in common?  That’s right: You’re an idiot!

Love,
Bex

That’s all.  Just a few things I needed to get off my chest.

Word of the Day: Menial (adj) – Lowly and sometimes degrading.

Writer's-Block-Strip-38

*Dear All the People Who Need to See this Disclaimer,

I am not trying to make light of pedophilia, kidnapping, or child molestation.  Quite the opposite, I fear for any child who is left unattended in a crowded area.  That is what prompted the above “letter.”  

I would also like it known that it is not my intention to insult any of my readers.  If you are a person who does not use a leash when walking your dog, then that is your decision.  My “letter” was meant to be a cautionary one, written with the use of humor because that is how I write most everything.  It was not a personal attack.  I don’t even know you.

And finally: My dog would not murder your dog.  He has, in fact, met dogs he’s been perfectly friendly with.  He is not feral.  He might bite, snap, growl, or something like that just to show dominance or to get the other dog to get away from “his” territory.  I have yet to convince him that the neighborhood does not belong to him.  He is a very sweet boy, so I would not want you to think ill of him.

Love,
Bex

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