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Near Death Experience
Near Death Experience
I had to disconnect my computer and take it in to see why it kept shutting itself off. It was really hard to do, because I have a little teensy-weensy addiction to blogging.
When I got back home, I looked at the empty space where the computer had been, and just like in a 19th Century English novel, I swooned. As I swooned, I hit my head on the corner of my computer table and everything went black.
After a while, I started to come around, and saw a white light beckoning to me out of the darkness. I heard funky blues music playing and saw some smoky red and gold clouds surrounding the white light.
Nothing else much was going on, so I thought, "What the hell," and went to check it out.
As I approached, I saw the silhouette of a small
man in the white light, with what looked to be angel wings attached to his shoulders. I shivered a little.
"Wow," thought I. I got closer. The blues music swelled. The angel came into focus.
"Did I die and go to heaven? What should I do?" I was a little teary.
"Dust, you lazy slut!" The angel sounded like Joe Pesci.
"Da word on da street is dat you've been lettin' things slide while you been bloggin' on A.F.F." He hitched up his pants. "I been sent to take of dat."
"That doesn't sound like heaven to me," I retorted. (I hate dusting more than anything.)
"Who said you wuz in heaven?" he chortled. "Nah. Nobody who logs onto A.F.F. goes to heaven, you kiddin' me?"
"Where am I, then?"
"Ah, just some sorta Catholic-type purgatory scene, you know, where we scare youse a little bit."
"And who the fuck are you?" I demanded.
"Me?" He laughed. "I'm a Dirty Angel, sent here to goose youse into action."
"Yeah. All da guys on A.F.F. who died jerking off to web cams become Dirty Angels."
"Died jerking off?" Incredulous.
"Yeah, happens all da time. We gotta pay our dues, come back and take care of all youse blog addicts."
He advanced, thrust a dust rag and some 99 Cent Store furniture polish into my hands.
"Dust, or you'll be swimmin' with the fishies."
He looked like he meant business, so I fucking dusted.
I got done, looked around, but the little Dirty Angel had disappeared. Someone tapped me on my shoulder, and, startled, I turned around. I found myself staring at the sizeable belly of a much larger Dirty Angel. I looked up and he spoke:
"About dat oven." He sounded like James Gandolfini. He smiled and I turned cold.
"Oven?" I asked weakly.
He laughed an evil laugh. "You know what da fuck I'm talkin' about."
He actually strong-armed me and marched me over to my oven, pulled open the door and stuck my head in.
"I can turn da gas on, ya know," he chuckled.
"All right, all right, I get it."
He handed me some rubber gloves and oven cleaner, and guess what I did? I cleaned da fuckin' oven.
I was exhausted and near tears when I finished, but the big Dirty Angel was still there.
He grabbed the back of my hair, pulled my head back and spoke into my ear. "We're goin' for a little ride."
I went cold and my knees buckled. "Not the ride," I whimpered,ice running in my veins.
He wrestled me into my car and drove me to the Smog Check Station.
This just wasn't any fun. Car stuff isn't any fun. Nuh-uh. But I got my fuckin' smog check done.
I dragged myself back home, exhausted, smelling like cleaning fluid and gasoline. I just wanted some comfort, so I stretched out on my bed and my hand traveled south, but just when it was starting to get fun, what did I hear?
"Whoa! Whoa! What's goin' on here? None of dat!'
Both of the Dirty Angels pulled my hand away from my private pleasure.
"What's wrong with you guys?" I demanded. "You don't wanna watch?"
The one who sounded like Joe Pesci piped up. "You don't unde-stand."
The big Dirty Angel who sounded like James Gandolfini filled me in. "Dirty Angels get clipped."
"Clipped? But you've got wings." Me, bewildered.
"Not da wings. We get wings in place of da family jewels. On accounta da way we died. You know, at da keyboard."
Wow. Well, if there's any guys out there on A.F.F. who are reading this, a word to the wise. Don't die checking out the web cams. Not worth it in the long run.
Well, the Dirty Angels were with me for about 3 days.
I finally got my computer back, having to drive all the way to Sherman Oaks in five o'clock traffic to get it. The Dirty Angels have disappeared, but I'm a changed person. I'll never let my oven get that bad again.
As I write, a Chinese man with a long pig-tail has appeared at my right side. I think he's saying "Cocksucker," but it's not clear because English is a second language. I listen closer.
What he's saying is: "Clean up the clutter."
So he's the fucking Feng Shui Angel.
I wish these guys would just leave me alone.
How am I supposed to blog with everything they want me to do?
6/13/2006 5:46 am
Hell, the dust bunnies are arming themselves right now in an attempt to take over all that is pure and good. I'm guessing I'll have to retaliate sometime within the next 24 hours. Before they start taking hostages!|
Where's the dayum cleaning fairy when you need him!?!?!?!
PS - I've not yet met the Feng Shui Angel - does he work for yen?
6/13/2006 6:25 am
just wait - the bathroom genie shows up next
and he's MEAN
You cannot conceive the many without the one.
6/13/2006 7:17 am
lol at wicked|
If it was Joe Pesci and Gandolfini then those weren't no angels my dear. You know, at some point, smoking all those spliffs are going to catch up with you.
You, an addiction to blogging? Nawwww
6/13/2006 7:44 am
Ahh, so those wiseguys get turned into "maid men"? |
Interesting, but I know yer not talkin to me. No, yer not talkin to me. Are you...
I would've loved to have seen you swoon - sounds elegant. Well, until you knocked yourself out.
6/13/2006 8:18 am
Aww jeeze! I just choked up a mouthful of root beer! All over my chest, and now my chest hairs are going to get all sticky!|
That was wonderful! Brilliant! And if I'd die watching you on cam (assuming that you show off like that), well, it would be worth it to get clipped!
6/13/2006 7:48 pm
Sometimes we have to take a break.....even a bj contest, eh?|