Tonight, I was a part of an amazing cast at “Teh Internet Quiz Show” at Comedy Bar.
We were asked to write a version of “creepypasta” and, from what I googled, its just short shitty Internet horror.
So…. I wrote this…. enjoy?
The year was 1848 and we were travelling to a undiscovered world. All I had with me was my wife, my two children, and my cart with very little supplies.
They days were going by so fast. The weather was hot and food supplies were low, so I decided to go hunt in the forest. All there were squirrels and rabbits. not enough to sustain a family of four. Our health was poor and, with a storm rolling in, didn’t look like it was going to change.
Night fell and when we woke, our daughter Sarah, had died during the night from what looked like a snake bite. We found a place to bury her, right beside the river. She loved to skip rocks and this was a fitting place for her.
We carried onward. There was no time to mourn as winter was fast approaching and we needed to make our destination promptly.
That night Billy, our son, sat beside me and said “Daddy. Sarah’s here.” His face was serious. He turned to the empty seat beside him. “and she’s mad”
"Sarah died, Billy. She’s in the ground" I said sternly.
"No daddy. She’s right here. Sarah wants to know why you murdered her"
A cold sweat rolled down my face. We didn’t have enough food for all of us and that was more humane than the slow starvation she was already experiencing.
"She wants you to drink this". Billy held out Sarah’s water canister.
"I’m not thirsty"
I drank it all. It tasted horrid. Like death.
"Go to sleep, daddy. Sarah is gone now"
When I woke up in the morning, my insides were in a knot. How did he know what I had done?
We arrived to the Kansas River crossing. We decided to ford the river. With all the rain the last few days, the river was swollen and deep, but it was our only path.
We ended up losing 2 oxen, a wagon wheel, a wagon axel and my wife drowned.
But, we continued forward to our ultimate goal.
Unfortunately, I had been shitting blood for two days now. Turns out Sarah was a bitter ghost and made me drink her own feces and now I have dysentery.
Three days later, I died, leaving my 9 year old son alone on the trail. The Oregon Trail.
He later became President of the United States of America.
Chapter 4: Cool Ranch Doritos
There’s a lot of reasons we act the way we do. Most of it comes from childhood trauma that we repress.
Now, let’s cut back to when I was 14 years old.
This was the first time I ever made-out with a guy. I was at my friend Tami’s house for her birthday party. We thought her mom was super cool because she would buy us non-alcoholic coolers and we assumed if we drank two really fast that we would get drunk. Mostly, it was a fun get together where we’d prank call pizza places, we would have a crush on a guy who happened to be there and we would dress up and pretend that we had boobs. (A trend that continues today)
His name was James. He was gross. Like, his “face was 90% scab” gross. Like, “didn’t change his clothes” gross. Like, “had a distinguishable odor that you could smell when he was coming” gross. He was the type of guy who was really proud of the tiny mustache he could grow. But, he was also the type of guy who was interested in me, which is MY type. (A trend that continues today)
From what I remember, he tasted like Cool Ranch Doritos. We lied on Tami’s couch side by side. A girl sat on the other end by our feet. He said I looks pretty (which was a total lie because I was wearing overalls), and he grabbed my face and smushed it into his. I didn’t move my lips at all. I just felt his moving around my face like they were lost. I started to pucker, then un-pucker, thinking that this motion would make him find his way.
That’s when the tongue happened. He made it his goal in life to get his tongue inside of my mouth and nothing was going to stop him. He made it passed my lips, but I clenched my teeth down like I was a pitbull eating a child’s face. He did not pass.
He then broke contact to say those three magical words to me.
"I. Am. Horny."
I had felt something on my leg but had no realization that I could ever make a penis aroused. (A trend that continues today)
I said “Cool.” and got up and talked to the girl, who was still sitting on the other side of the couch.
And this is why I hate the word “Horny”.
Reasons why I’m not a cat lady.
I talk about my cat. A lot. But that’s because my cat is awesome.
People have told me that I am a cat lady. But, I only have one cat. That’s like calling me a murderer because I accidentally ran over a kid with my car.
Here are 7 reasons why I am not a cat lady.
1. As I mentioned before, I only have one cat. To be a cat lady, there needs to be more cats than occupants of the home.
2. I at least attempt to remove cat hair from my clothing before I leave the house.
3. I have only bought one outfit for my cat, and it was just a bow tie and he hated it.
4. I do not give my cat a funny voice when he “responds” to questions like “Are you hungry?” or “Are you the cutest?”. His voice is the same as mine.
5. I have never, nor will I ever, walk my cat on a leash. I was thinking about it, but I feel he’ll pull a Houdini on me and leave me forever.
6. I do not celebrate his birthday. (This is because I don’t know when it is since he was a stray)
7. His nickname, “Little man” is only in response to his lack of testicles.
So, I guess that proves it. Also, the best filter on instragram FOR my cat is “Valencia”. It brings out the green in his eyes.
Megan. Here’s Megan. She likes cats. I guess she’s a self-professed cat-lady. She’s a writer/comedian/studying-to-be-a-makeup-artist. Megan once told me one of her favourite pastimes is complaining. I also enjoy complaining (about the weather, youth these days, my lack of money, my lack of sleep and my lack of ambition). Megan is sassy and don’t let her tell you otherwise.
Maybe you’ll follow her on twitter.
Maybe you won’t. I’m not the law.
My Unsolicited Advice On Being Happy.
I have spent far too much of my life being unhappy. It’s taken a few years, but using a spork, I’ve dug myself out of that self-pity hole and now I’m taking the escalator to success.
Here are 10 questions to ask yourself and the answers might help you find that new route you’ve been searching for.
1. Is money or happiness more important to you? If the answer is money, marry me.
2. What job did you want when you were 6? Was it real or was it to be a pony because the technology hasn’t been created for that yet.
3. Could you see yourself doing that now? If yes, pursue that. You are now happy.
4. What is the one thing you enjoy doing? Could you make money doing it? If yes, pursue that. You are now happy.
5. If you can’t make money doing it, are you willing to work a part time joe job, be broke, but still be able to do that thing? If yes, pursue that. You are now happy.
6. Ever in love? Did it not work out? Have you changed? Like… actually changed? Think he/she changed? Maybe send them a “what’s up” Facebook message and reconnect. Have a crush on someone? Think they don’t know you exist? Get drunk and say they are cute cause sometimes that works.
7. Think of your five friends that can always make you laugh. Try to spend more time with them.
8. Clean your house. Seriously. It will help. Also, come clean my house.
9. Eat healthy. I know this sounds cliche, but eating is for energy. As delicious as two daily meals of chicken fingers sounds, you are basically just going to poop it out and get fat.
10. Smile. A homeless person told me to do it once and then once I started people said that I looked pretty. And, who doesn’t like to be called pretty? Assholes, that’s who.
If you are passionate about something, pursue that because that’s how dinks with a twitter account get famous and how cancelled television shows get back on the air.
Happiness is just around the corner. (Hey now, hey now, here what I say now…)
How to Make Friends in College in 5 Easy Steps
Just out of high school? Looking to start a new career? Enjoy cafeteria fishsticks?
If any of these apply to you, you are ready for the college experience. Going back to school can be scary. It’s a large building full of preps, jocks, princesses, nerds and weirdos who all paid far too much money to be there and must have way better things to do then to be friends with someone like you. “How will I ever fit in?” you ask yourself. These are the 5 easy steps for turning you from friend-dud to friend-stud
1) Look super cool.
If you look super cool, then you ARE super cool, right? Google “What’s cool” and do all of the things. Buy a popular band t-shirt and say you went to see that band. Wear your baseball backwards, like a rebel. Use swear words in regular speech. All these things are considered “cool”.
2) Stop eating lunch in the bathroom.
How will anyone know your face if all they see is your feet? Also, they’ll stop wondering why you’ve been in the stall for an hour and asking why it smells so much like nutella.
3) Always pack an extra sandwich.
College students are always broke and always hungry. And sharing is caring. Once you emerge from the bathroom stall you ate lunch in, find someone who looks gaunt and pale and give them a meal and that friendship bracelet you made.
4) Just ask!
“Want to be my friend? Please?”
You could write it in a note, or just ask it in person, but this is the easiest and most direct way to make a pal. College is full of people who are just waiting to capitalize on your friendship. It might take up to 5 attempts but keep asking and don’t take no for an answer.
5) Pretend your [sic] stupid
Fail your classes. The smart kids are too busy with their four eyes and book readings to have a super cool social life. When is that paper due? Tomorrow. Of course YOU know that, but the girl beside you doesn’t need to know that you know that. Ask her and start up a conversation about how you don’t understand anything, and how your teachers must hate you. You’ll be in for years of slumber parties and hair braiding adventures.
With these helpful tips, your schedule should be overflowing with social engagements, your iPhone will be full of texts and you can replace all those photos of your cat with photos of actual people. Guaranteed.
Remember when I was a writer?
It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to write.
It’s a mix of being too busy, being too lazy and being uninspired.
I will have an two hour gap between classes tomorrow. I PROMISE I’LL WRITE… SOMETHING….
The Guide To Becoming A Better Pedestrian.
An article featured on "The Impersonals"
Walking comes pretty easy to most of us. It’s instinctual. We plop out of the womb and eventually figure it out. One foot in front of the other. Get from point A to point B. Simple, right?
For most, very but sadly, not for a select few.
People have places to go and people to see and need to get their promptly. And that’s why I am here to teach the rules of the sidewalk.
Let’s make a list of the worst offenders.
1. Old people
Yes. I get it. You’re old. Your bones are brittle and moving hurts. But, that doesn’t mean that you should just shuffle along before coming to a complete stop right in front of me to catch a breather, adjust your 18 layers of clothing or to look at something that I’m sure you’ve seen a million times before because you’ve been ALIVE FOREVER. Maybe you should get a motorized scooter. Get out of my way.
2. Motorized scooters
There are only two speeds on these things: “Holy shit, slow down” or “crawling snails pace”. To the speed demons, congrats, you’re awesome. Keep it up. To the others, if your legs already didn’t work, I’d break your kneecaps. Get out of my way.
3. Women with baby strollers
Yay, you had sex once and you have physical proof of it! Neat! You don’t need to flaunt it in a $2000 stroller that is 7 feet wide and mostly has your own shit in it. You are not only blocking the entire sidewalk, but you are making my uterus punch my kidneys. Get out of my way.
4. Dog walkers
“Oh, you have a French bulldog? I have a French Bulldog! Let’s stand in the middle of the sidewalk and talk about it!” Stopping mid-sidewalk is the number one Pedestrian no-no. It’s like parking a car in the middle of a freeway. Add an adorable dog, it’s like a fiery 10-car pile-up. Everyone will slow down and want to gawk at it. Add a taut leash and dog shit as possible unwanted obstacles, it’s like shitty Mario Kart. Get out of my way.
5. Slow walking couples holding hands.
Seriously?! I am about to play the best game of “Red Rover”. Get out of my way.
If you aren’t anyone listed above, congratulations! You’ve passed! Continue with what you’re doing. Sidewalks are serious business and have to be treated as such. Maintain speed, merge when needed and respecting other’s space and everyone will get where they need to be when they need to be there.
Or just get a car.
Oh god, someone please buy me a car.
I have a new article up for “The Impersonals”!
Leg hole. (Warning: possible gross pictures)
As some of you know, on Friday, July 13th at approx. 1:30am, I was leaving the Toronto Fringe Tent and I was hit by a cab. Well, kinda…
I was standing between two parked cars (or so I thought) beside my bike, about to walk it across the street. I was waiting for a gap in traffic when the taxicab to my right backed up into my front tire, causing me to lose my balance and fall on top of my bike. When I realized what had happened, the cab had already drove away. No one around me seemed to have seen what happened other than witnessing me and my bike sprawled on the cement. Thankfully, I was wearing a helmet.
Me being me, I was embarrassed and ran away like a hurt animal. I was walking along Bloor, upset that my back tire was bent and trying to figure out how I was going to get home.
"Yo, man, you okay? There’s blood all over your legs." - said some drunk guy walking beside me.
I look down and my entire leg is blood and bike grease. I find where the blood was coming from and there was a HOLE IN MY LEG. I could have stuck my pinkie finger into it. As well, my right shoulder cushioned most of my fall and was a little hard to move. After a mild panic attack, I text a few people telling them what happened.
Apparently even if you write, “I got hit by a car, I’m fine so don’t worry”, still makes people worry and they rushed to my side.
By this time, 4 or 5 strangers are standing around me asking me questions and I have no idea what to say or do. One girl went up to her apartment, got hydrogen peroxide and poured it all over my leg.
(bubbles from peroxide, most of the blood cleaned off)
After a man bent my tire back into place, it was decided that I needed medical attention, (I DEFINITELY needed a tetanus shot) but it could probably wait until morning. (Come on, Friday 13th evening in an ER? No thanks.) I, somehow, rode my bike home, cleaned up my wound and tried to sleep.
Sleep didn’t happen since my body was so sore. Also, I bled through the bandage.
(Duct tape bandage. Sort of did the trick.)
So, after a walk-in visit (The doc just looked at it and said “I’m not touching that”), I went to the ER, got it all stitched and now I’m walking like an 80 year old man.
Here’s a picture of today’s glory!
How to get over a crush in 7 easy steps.
Fun fact: I’m now writing for www.theimpersonals.com. This is my latest article. Enjoy?
Love hurts. Love scars. And everyone and their mother has gone through an agonizing crush. Unrequited love is one of the top 3 most painful things a person goes through after childbirth and kidney stones. Here are some of my tips to help get over that certain someone.
1. Assume they are dead.
So THAT’s why they never return your text messages! Also, if they are dead, then you will never end up together. End of torment. TIP: For the full effect, plan a fake funeral and bury a shoebox full of all the stuff that reminds you of them. Don’t forget to make a Popsicle stick tombstone.
2. Fuck everything.
Guy on the subway that looked at you funny? Fuck it. Dude who made your Americano this morning? Fuck it. Your next door neighbour who might still be in high school? Fuck it. This will help you realize that other people will actually WANT to fuck you.
3. Stop practicing your signature with their last name.
4. Get a cat.
Nothing beats the affection of a cute and cuddly animal. Also, this is the only way you can physically force something to love you…
5. Adopt a baby.
…Okay, two ways.
6. Become a nun.
This is very extreme, but 100% effective. This usually works a lot better if you actually believe in God. If not, try to make it as much like “Sister Act” as possible.
7. Rethink your entire life.
Since you’re never going to find true love, why not go back to school for Culinary Arts? Or backpack through Europe? Buy a Faberge egg or two? Nothing helps you get over heartbreak than going $20,000 in debt.
If none of these tips help, just write a vague depressing song lyric as your Facebook status, and when people ask you what’s wrong answer “Oh…nothing.” and/or listen to Adele until your ears start to bleed and I guarantee complete success.
My advice for conversations I’ve overheard on the subway
Why wear an iPod or read a book when you can listen into private conversations? As an third party listener, I feel that my advice will not only be the best possible for all involved, it will also be the most honest since I don’t know who the fuck you are.
1) 4 year old boy - “Mommy, I want to be a garbage man”
Mother - “No, you don’t”
Garbage men throw out garbage. They look like garbage and they smell like garbage. This is all true. You know what else is true? Steady employment. Say one day in the future, your kid comes up to you and says that they want to become a writer. So, long story short, you are going to get a phone call at the end of every month asking for money. With secure work, like trash collecting, this means a unionized work environment, pensions and healthcare plans. I don’t know one writer who’s been to the dentist in the last 10 years.
2) 16 year old guy - “I love you”
16 year old girl - “I love you”
Congrats on banging your junks together! Here’s everything that can and will possibly go wrong. He will cheat on her. She will cheat on him. She’ll give him herpes. He’ll give her chlamydia. He will get her pregnant. She will lie about being pregnant when she feels that he is cheating on her. Or they’ll actually be together for years to come and continue to sit on each other’s laps in public transit.
3) Nine to Fiver - “Oh man, I can’t wait to go to the cottage this weekend”
Hi. You’ve never met me, but my name is Megan and none of my friends own cottages. I know, right? I’d sure love to attend the festivities. Anyway… here’s my number and only call me if it’s cottage or cottage-related. Thanks, bye.
To be continued.
How to be Humble. Part 4.
When I was 9, I was really into rollerblading.
I had purple BRAND NAME (jealous?) Rollerblades® and enough protective gear that I looked like an American Gladiator contestant. Everything matched and I was completely aware of how cool I looked.
So, I’m skating around the front of my house and I hear this loud, annoying chirping sound from a tree. I look up to see a baby squirrel sitting on a branch, staring at me. And because I instantly wanted to pet it, I starting throwing rocks so it would come down and we could become best friends.
The squirrel, obviously scared shittless, starts running down the tree and across the street, as far away from the crazy child as possible. But because I’m an awesome rollerblader, I was able to catch up to it.
It stops and stares at me, with what I though was love in it’s eyes. I immediately go, “I WILL PET YOU NOW!”, instead of “This wild animal thinks I’m trying to crush it”.
As I bent down, the squirrel lunges at my face and I block it from tearing out my jugular. Now, I’m not sure if squirrels can lock their jaw, but I was skating around a cul-de-sac for about 5 minutes, flailing and screaming at the top of my lungs, with this rodent fully attached to my hand.
Finally, the poor lil’ guy lets go and runs for dear life, and I go inside my house, with the knowledge that a) squirrels do not want hugs b) wrist guards will not stop rabies and c) my mother will still remember this story 20 years later and tell boys I bring home about it.