Posts Tagged ‘weird’

Le Poop

September 26, 2012

So, this happened:

Don’t ask me why. We both know there’s something seriously wrong with me.


It only gets weirder…

February 12, 2011

The other day I had a weird dream and I really wanted to blog about it. So when I woke up, I went straight to my laptop and jotted down the key points of the dream, with the intention of filling in the details later. When “later” came, however, I couldn’t find the pen for my drawing tablet, so I just saved the draft and forgot about it.

Now, four or five days afterwards, I remembered this little half-started post in my drafts folder. However, I’ve forgotten the real details of the dream and I still haven’t found my pen.

So it’s going to be brief, might not make sense, and the comics will look even worse than normal because I’ll be drawing them with my finger on my mouse pad:

We were at a house party, but then we started moving. Apparently we were at a boat party and I didn’t know. I was scared.

There was a dog. But not a normal-sized dog. It was elephant-sized.

Viktor gave me twenty vials of drugs for my birthday. But Viktor looked like the old (current) version of Brad Pitt.

I was holding a snake. It bit me. And didn’t let go for several hours. I was light-headed.

The big dog could fly. He had a jet-pack. If you whistled, he’d come back.

Sometimes the big dog turned into a man who looked like Jesus.

The houseboat started moving at warp speed. The deck got really slippery. I fell into the water.

Big flying Jesus dog saved me.

I repaid him with a vial of drugs.

The good, the bad, and the WTF is wrong with me?!

November 12, 2010

For those of you who are loyal readers, you already know that I have severely fucked up, twisted, and vivid dreams. The content of said dreams are typically reserved for the minds of the criminally insane, the drug overdosers, and the brain damaged (due to a cigarette-smoking birth defect). Sadly Fortunately, I don’t fit under any of these aforementioned categories. Yet still I have the weirdest dreams.

Last night’s dream was particularly long and detailed, so I’ll spare you the intricacies and instead just outline a few key points that I think were particularly interesting, both in the bad sense (i.e. “Oh my God, please don’t ever let that happen or exist in real life! Lock up your brain, you sick freak!”) and the totally awesome sense (i.e. “Aww, why can’t that be real? I’m jealous of you that you got to experience that and I never will.”).

Talking fish that can morph into humans. This one’s pretty self explanatory. Basically I had a fridge. And you know those little drawers at the bottom that are meant to keep vegetables fresh? Sorry, side-note: How is that supposed to work? What’s so special about the bottom of the fridge that keeps my fruits and veggies fresher than on a normal shelf? I don’t like banishing them to a drawer, because it makes them sad, which in turn makes me sad. Not cool. Anyway, back to my dream. So in those freshness drawers I had about forty live, swimming little fishies. And they were all pretty, as far as fish go. Like, not just ordinary like goldfish, rather, exotic-looking and flamboyant, with vibrant colours. And they could talk.

At one point I took a little tupperware-full of like, three or four, and when I got to the train station and opened up the little plastic container, they morphed into really good-looking females of the human species. Except one of them had a damaged fin, so her arm turned out to be in a cast, but whatevs.

Evil demon Chewbacca/bear/cat. This was almost traumatising enough to wake me up, but not quite. Basically, I was visiting some random dream-person in the hospital, and the evil demon Chewbacca/bear/cat jumped out from under the bed and started growling at me for no reason. None whatsoever! I didn’t taunt it. I didn’t step on its tail. I didn’t insult it. I wasn’t looking for a fight or anything. I was just minding my own business, visiting a sick person, and then I got growled at. But not just a normal growl. It was exactly as I said: a combination of Chewbacca’s weird-ass voice, a mother bear’s deafening roar when she’s defending her cubs, and Tommy’s low cat-growl when he fights other cats in the neighbourhood. It was so very frightening.

And then I must have made a sudden movement, or maybe the demon sensed my fear or something, because it proceeded to attack me and clamp onto my arm and not let go.

It was one of the worst experiences of my dream life, even worse than that time I was delivering pizzas to a creepy alien guy.

Awesome elevators that transport you in all directions at nearly warp speed. We were on our way to this party in a huge warehouse, and when we got to the elevator, I was expecting it to be normal, like every other elevator I’ve ever been on. As in, it only goes in two directions – up and down. But this elevator also went left and right, and it did a loopty-loop at one point! I didn’t really understand the physics behind it, because I didn’t feel the effects of g-force, but it was cool nonetheless. And, it took me to my desired level, which is all that really mattered.

Getting into a fight with a car-wash ghost because he confiscated your car and motorcycle. Different party, same warehouse setting. So I drove into the parking garage. I drive a Ford Edge in real life. It’s a little bulky, and is difficult to handle at slow speeds, but it’s cool. In my dream, I was driving the same car, maneuvering it around all kinds of twists and turns and corners. You know how parking garages can be. Anyway, I was informed that this garage used to be a car wash back in the day, but they tore it down and rebuilt it into thousands of parking spaces instead. I found what appeared to be a completely legal parking space (near the “elevator”) and got out of the car.

Then, a car wash ghost floated over to me and started talking about how I can’t park there because I’d be blocking other customers who want to come and have their cars cleaned. I tried explaining to the ghost that he was dead and this was no longer a car wash, but he was in denial and a physical fight ensued. A few minutes into the most useless fight in the history of violence (because no punch was ever landed, they just kind of passed through us), I decided to be the bigger person and just walk away.

Upon doing so, I noticed that my car was gone! Ghost guy laughed and said that he confiscated it due to the illegality of my parking. This made me very irate. But I was late for the party, so I let it go, and went upstairs.

Fast-forward to a few hours later, when I left the party. I got back down to the garage and asked ghost guy what he did with my car. He said he took it down the road to the Ford service centre, which was about two kilometers away. I definitely did not feel like walking that far. Luckily, I had my spare motorcycle parked one level above. So I went and got it, but I fucked something up and the clutch started smoking and then kind of just exploded off. I was sad.

I went back to ghost guy and asked if he could fix it, but he said he didn’t know how to. So I figured I’d walk the bike to Ford, pick up my car, and leave the bike there, for Ford to maybe fix in the morning. But when I went back to my bike, it too was gone! Why does this keep happening to me?! My blood boiled with anger. In a forced-calm voice I asked the ghost what he did with it and he said he sent it to Saudi Arabia.

Cake that tastes like weird non-cakey things. I was at the hospital again, celebrating the life of someone. There was cake. It didn’t taste like chocolate or vanilla or marble or strawberry or walnut or carrot or cheese. It tasted like chicken. Grilled chicken. There was another cake that tasted like mashed potatoes and peas. And another cake that tasted like barbecued spare ribs. And finally, a spaghetti-flavoured cake. Yes, they were all exact replicas of the original taste. But because of the cake-like consistency, I was slightly grossed out. However, to be polite, I had a small sliver of the ribs-cake.

And yeah, that’s pretty much it. I mean there was a lot more to it, but I’m not going to delve any further into my insanities. Bear in mind though, that all of the situations that I discussed above happened over the course of a single dream. So I don’t know if that means I need a brain transplant, or if it means that I’m actually a genius mastermind.

I’d like to think the latter.

A comical* nightmare

October 26, 2010

*By “comical” I literally mean that there will be comics. In no way am I implying that there was anything funny about this nightmare. In fact, it was freakish and disturbing.

I was just minding my own business, taking a casual moonlit stroll around the lake. Out of the corner of my eye, I see some light coming from the surrounding forest, like a campfire. “I love camps!” I exclaimed aloud, and decided to go towards it.

The fire grew closer, and soon I was on the site itself. But this was no ordinary campsite. There were no marshmallows. No tents. No illegal fireworks. Just this one old dude who looked like a tribal leader of some sort.

“Ah, we have been waiting for you, my child,” spoke the old man. “You are just in time!” I was wondering who this we was that he was referring to, because there was no one else there. I later found out the skull on his totem pole stick thing had like, a soul or something. It was weird.

“Uh okay, well, what exactly am I in time for?” I asked.

“The ceremoooony….” he replied ominously.

Now, I’ve seen enough horror movies in my past to know that “ceremony” usually means “freaky-ass rituals in which several people and animals die as a sacrifice.” So in no way did I want anything to do with said ceremony.

“Oh okay cool, well I think I’ll just, you know, pass. It’s getting late and I’m not really feeling the whole ceremony thing tonight. Thanks for the offer though, gramps! Bye!” And I started backing away.

“Oh no, you have misunderstood. It’s not an offer. It’s an order. You have twelve hours to chop off your hair and turn it into a wig for Mr. Snuffles. If you fail to do so, all of mankind will instantaneously cease to exist!” It seemed the skull’s name was Mr. Snuffles. And I had to chop off all my hair to save humanity?!

Well at least I had twelve hours to decide. I wandered around the forest. I did a full circle around the lake. Not a single barber. I guess I was going to have to do this myself. But with what? I had no scissors! Then I remembered this show I once saw on Discovery Channel, where the guy needed a knife, so he cracked a rock and it splintered into sharp knife-like tools. So I found a promising stone, threw it against another stone, and using my new caveman blade, proceeded to cut off my hair.

Looking like a total douchebag, I then started weaving my own hair into a fucking wig for a goddamn skull called Mr. Snuffles. I was furious. Why was I the chosen one?!

Just as I put on the last finishing touches (I decided the skull would look better with bangs, to hide the massive forehead), this random girl pops out of the bushes and starts making fun of me for having been so gullible. She explained that the tribal guy was actually just an old dude who escaped from a mental institute and had a fetish for hair. He discovered that by disguising himself as a creepy tribal chief, his ploy tended to work on the majority of his victims. But Blondie over here was ironically smart and told him “humanity shmanity, I like my hair and you can’t have it!” and twelve hours later, there was still no apocalypse, and she still had a full head of luscious shiny hair.

I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to cry. Not only did I look ugly, but I was being made fun of, and I got duped by an insane person! How much worse could my life get? Suddenly, I had a brilliant idea.

If grandpa couldn’t trick this girl, maybe I could! I would tell her that it wasn’t humanity that would be destroyed, rather, all the cute bunnies in the world would die violent deaths if she didn’t give me her hair to take to the Chief! Then, I could make another wig, wear it on my head, the creepy guy still gets his hair, nobody dies, and karma would grace its presence by allowing me to make fun of her! It was brilliant! BRILLIANT, I SAY!!

She didn’t buy it.

So, in an act of sheer desperation, I did the only thing I knew how. I slit her throat with my rock-knife, skinned her head, created my new wig, as planned, and headed off towards the campfire. Little did I know that now I was the deranged lunatic, because while I thought I looked like this…

I actually looked like this…

So I scampered off into the woods, with a twitch in my eye and maniacal laughter in the back of my throat. When I arrived at the campsite, however, the old guy wasn’t there. Grunting like a werewolf who just morphed into the beastly state, I looked around, confused, angry, and still exhilarated from my kill just a short while prior.


All of my friends and family jumped out from behind the trees. A Happy Birthday banner swung down. A small child was carrying a big cake, lit with candles for me. I was confused. And then it all made sense. I thought I recognised the tribal chief!

Turns out, he was my marketing professor, and this whole thing was carefully planned as a surprise party. He dressed up as a chief to send me away for twelve hours, so everyone would have time to arrange the event. The blonde girl was sent as reassurance that I needn’t actually cut my hair. And the plan was, that she and I would become friends and gallivant through the forest for a couple hours, until finally she led me back to where the party was. Oops.

Anyway, the cake was delicious, I was slightly less delusional, and everything turned out okay.


“Hey guys, has anyone seen Sally?”

I’ll Make a Man Out of You

July 4, 2010

The following series of events occurred between 07:55 and 08:00 on the morning of July 4th, 2010.

I was on a skateboard, zooming through the street, carrying a stack of pizza boxes. I was the delivery chick and the faster I delivered, the bigger my tips. Luckily, I was Tony Hawk’s sensei and all of the streets were downhill Crazy-Taxi-like streets. So after a quick calculation, I was looking forward to about $300, only half of which belongs in the cashier.

I arrive at my first destination, and ring the doorbell. It was one of those apartment buildings with like, six buzzers, and you can either talk to the tenant through the intercom, or someone can buzz you up.


“Uh… Yeah hi. You ordered a pizza?”


“Cool.” [I had no idea what he said]




“I’m sorry, are you saying “Mulan and her clan will get me?”


And I got buzzed in. Still clueless as to what the guy was saying on the other end of the shitty intercom, I started jogging up the stairs. Apartment 302, that’s where I was going.

Just as I reached the top of the first flight of stairs, three ninjas fell from up above.


Oh Jesus, this was actually happening. Mulan and her little ninja people were gearing up to defeat the Hun, and there was no way they’d let me pass unless I joined in song and did all the actions. Fucking hell. There goes a $20 tip.


This was ridiculous. Why was Mulan in a city that looked like modern day San Francisco? Surely the Hun had already been defeated centuries ago. Right? I mean, why was I getting caught up in this bullshit? Damn-it, I have pizzas to deliver!

Seeing as how I would never get past these guys, I went back downstairs and walked around the building to the fire escape. I made it relatively quickly to the third-story window, and then knocked.


Oh oops, that wasn’t a shitty intercom, that was his real voice. And he of course wasn’t human. He was a weird alien guy who kinda resembled one of these freaks.

“Uh, hello… sir… I uh, I have your pizza? That’s two large pepperoni and a side of wedges, so your total is $18.47.


“Right. Okay, well that’s fine. I mean, if you don’t wanna pay, I’ll just… Leave the pizzas here and uh, be on my way, I guess. So uh, enjoyyourmealbye!”

And I bolted the fuck out of there. The last thing I want is for this alien sonofabitch to anal probe me.

Back on the street, I grabbed my skateboard and darted off in the direction of my next hungry customer. As I’m rolling down the street, thinking about the losses I had just incurred, Mulan and her men fan out behind me.

[Fat guy] I’m never gunna catch my breath…

[Mulan] Hope he doesn’t see right through me…

[Skinny guy] Now I really wish that I knew how to swim!


Oh my God, kill me now.

I get to the next address, and I see Chinese characters on the front door. This is a bad sign, seeing as how Mulan et al. are trying to defeat the Hun, and with my luck, Shan Yu will open the door and I’ll be in the middle of a blood fest. So I asked Mushu (who looked more like a miniature Eddie Murphy rather than a dragon) to come translate.

“China is… a country full of… pussies. China can… suck it. North Korea… is the… bomb… diggity. Long live… Kim Jong Il.” Mushu looked up at me, proud that he had been my translator. Then he did a double-take and became psycho-angry Eddie Murphy. “Wait, what? What the hell did these Korean mo’fuckas just say bout ma country?! I WILL STRAIGHT UP MURDER YO ASS, YOU HEAR ME?!”

Oh shit. I really just want to give the guy his pizza, take my money, and be on my way. Evidently, this wasn’t going to happen. So I left all the pizza on the doorstep and skated off.

I made it to the bank, where I had planned to steal $300. But when I walked in, it was the bank from Harry Potter. Apparently I was Harry, and this was the scene where Hagrid shows me how rich my dead parents were and how much gold I have. I was pretty stoked, so I took two pocketfuls of gold coins, and then woke up.

Wet-ish dreams

June 1, 2010

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this before, but any time I dream about water, I have no problem breathing under it. I think the reason is because my body in real life is breathing normally, so in my dream I must breathe normally too, in order to not drown on a subconscious inkling.

Anyway so I was walking past this shallow manmade lake in the middle of the city (similar to the reflecting pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial) with one of my friends. Suddenly, I get side-tackled and my attacker and I fall into the pool. I didn’t get too pissed off though, because I expected to just be able to stand up and be knee-deep in water. Negative. I was so wrong.

Using skillful rope techniques, my attacker connected his belt to mine and then slowly dragged me down into the cold, dark depths. Like I said, I have no problem breathing under water, but it was still scary as shit, because we were sinking for a long time and there were a lot of weird things going on. At about the 15 meter mark, this giant evil basilisk swam around me and whispered Latin curses. But I kept my eyes half-closed because I wasn’t really in the mood for a death stare.

We continued sinking, and I found a lot of money and things people had lost over the years. At one point there was a round table, and four knights and a cat were sitting around it playing some fucked up version of poker. And they weren’t playing for chips or cash, they were playing for bullets.

The deeper we sank, the darker and colder the water became, until I could no longer decide which way was up and which way was down. It was the eeriest feeling. Such a deafening silence (excuse the oxymoron), and strange weightless feeling of buoyancy. Eventually, we landed on a hard surface. We finally made it to the bottom! The dude I was attached to checked his illuminated watch and said we were at 227 meters. What strong lungs we have!

We took a little walk around, but due to our practical blindness, we gave up pretty quickly. Then, without warning, the attached guy severed our bond, kicked off from the ground, and torpedoed into a skyward direction. Uh, okay. Am I meant to follow or something? So I did the same, but when I kicked off from the ground, I landed again almost immediately. Know what I mean? It’s as if I jumped up and landed again. Like, as if I wasn’t in water anymore. Fucken great. Now what was I supposed to do? 227 meters below sea level, and the laws of physics don’t apply to me. Nice.

So I picked a direction and started walking. Pitch black. It was difficult for me to even maintain balance, that’s how dark it was. Eventually, I saw something. As in, something was glowing in the distance. I followed the light and found a school of angler fish, rehearsing some songs for the gospel choir. The music was beautiful, but they were so ugly that it was difficult to watch. When “Hallelujah” was over, the conductor turned around and smiled (if you can call it that). “We’ve been expecting you,” he said in a semi-creepy serial killer voice. “Are you ready to travel back to your world? Or would you rather prefer to join us?”

“Uh, I’m cool thanks, I don’t need to join you. I’ll just uh, you know, go back to my human world.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah I’m pretty sure, thanks.”

“Because we can offer you so much more.”

“Nah dude, trust me, I’m fine, thank you.”



“Really really?”


“Really really really?”


Oops, that was a big mistake. The entire choir glowered at me, and the lights on their heads shone brighter. They were pretty pissed off. My bad. I slowly backed away, hoping they’d just let me leave, but they swam closer and closer to me, ever so slowly. So I turned around and sprinted.

They were catching up pretty quickly, and just as the conductor was about to bite my head off, I leapt in the air and kept rising. Yessss! I have my buoyancy back! The laws of physics do exist! I swam as hard and fast as I could. I passed the poker-playing guys, and the cat fired a shot past me. So I grabbed hold of the bullet and it zoomed me through the water. 150… 100… 80… 75… Wait am I slowing down? Bullocks. I let go of the bullet (who was panting and trying desperately to catch its breath, by the way) and swam a bit myself. I made it to about 40 meters and the sun was shining in the near distance. Almost at the surface, woo!

But then the basilisk decided to come fuck things up for me. You know about basilisks, right? They’re the kings of serpents or reptiles, and they can kill you instantly by just looking at you. Think Harry Potter. Anyway so this basilisk sonofagun starts taunting me, and I’m too tired to put up a fight. And it’s kinda difficult to fight with a giant sea serpent if your eyes are half closed. So I implored him to just back off and leave me alone because I want to just carry on my way and get to the surface. He seemed to take pity on me, because with the flick of his head, he flipped me onto his back, and slithered to the top. Just below the surface, he told me to never tell anyone what I had witnessed today. I promised that I wouldn’t, thanked him, and stepped off his head and onto the street.

But wait. This wasn’t the same reflecting pool I initially got into. I wasn’t in front of the Lincoln Memorial, I was in front of the Taj Mahal! And Ten was running towards me from the distance, carrying a newborn baby! And then I woke up. And contrary to what I promised the basilisk, I’m telling you my tale. I hope I’m not going to be forever cursed…

Where is my mind?

May 14, 2009

George W. Bush invited us over to a huge house party he was having at the White House. As he was giving us the grand tour, he was simultaneously lecturing all of us about how unhealthy cigarettes are.

I was in the cinema, and the previews were still going on. Suddenly I remembered that I forgot my sweater in the car, so I asked Omar for his keys and told him I’d be right back. As I was leaving the cinema, I remembered that the car was parked all the way on the opposite end of the mall, six floors down, and the elevators were out of order. So when I finally made it to the other end, I had to take the stairs. There, I found an injured puppy and decided to try and save him. But anytime I approached him, he’d run a few steps away, as if wanting me to follow him somewhere. So I did. He led me to this huge indoor waterfall, shed a single tear of happiness, and jumped to his death.

My mom and I had some business to do at Atlantis, and as we were leaving the hotel, I noticed that the sunset was outstandingly beautiful. So I told her to go ahead and I’d catch up after I took a few pictures. Standing at the pier, I was about to take the shot when this baby turtle crawled onto my foot and started crying. “Hey little fella, what’s wrong, hm? Why are you so sad?” I asked him as I was kneeling down to pick him up. With supernatural strength, he then proceeded to bite me in the ankle and fling me into this cavern full of bats. Laughing menacingly, he shouted from above me, “VICTORY IS MINE!” and then a seagull swooped down and ate him. Meanwhile, the bats were setting up for a party, and they were pretty cool with me. We played Twister, which was a little awkward. Because you know, they’re bats.

Omar and I were in some sort of old abandoned mansion, looking through the previous inhabitants’ forgotten possessions. One room was completely filled with all sorts of paper. Ancient Egyptian papyrus, chrome paper, kite paper, tissue paper, glassine paper, art paper, laser paper, recycled paper, newspaper, wallpaper... all kinds of paper! Stored alphabetically in clearly labeled drawers. We stole a few sheets and then moved on to what seemed to be a makeup room slash walk-in closet. I took some Calvin Klein perfume and a really nice ring (I think it was made of ivory). Omar stole a really nice, old-fashioned, expensive watch and some black socks.

We were having an argument with our waitress at Starbucks, because she was an idiot. I had asked for black coffee, and she brought me black tea instead. So when I said, “Oh excuse me, I asked for coffee, not tea,” her response was, “Go to hell.” So naturally, I beat her up and then we were arguing about whether there were twelve rounds in a boxing match, or fifteen. To settle the dispute, I socked her in the neck. KO. Whammy!


The preceding series of dreams all took place within a half-hour time frame. Analysis? Incurable insanity.

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