Why I Didn't Post Last Week

So, I've been getting a few remarks as to why I didn't write an article and post it last week. Most people have been saying its because I'm lazy and apathetic, and I have to go and prove the naysayers wrong. There's actually been a lot going on in my life. For example, just last night, I heard my parents arguing about who got the privilege of killing me. As you can probably imagine, I was quite emotionally distraught and too scared to hunch over a computer writing when my mom could silently open the door, and bash my skull in with a rolling pin. With spikes attached to it. And sharks. Yeah.

Seems legit.

If that's not enough, my grandmother recently passed away from a case of SuperMegaUltraCancerDeathAIDS. It was a tough time for our family, especially since at the funeral, my uncle and aunt were overcome by grief, and have been in a state of depression ever since. But they weren't the only ones affected by this tragic and unexpected passing. My grandfather ran away to the Alps, taking everything with him. Last time I saw him was when someone took picture while ascending Mt. Everest of a naked old man dancing around a bonfire, burning everything had worked for, worshiping a pig dressed in a leotard doing a magic show for him while covered in his own fecal matter.

Al Capone's last dying wish was for his successors to use his money to hire assassins to murder my entire extended family, and they all completed their job just last week. Little did they know that one of my uncles was part of that group of assassins. His employers unwittingly ordered him to kill himself (not the most vigilante bunch). Instead of making the rational decision and turning on them, perhaps giving us a chance to survive, he followed through with his job. As pissed off as I am, I've got to admire his loyalty.

Also, my uncle was a Japanese Samurai.

If you still don't feel bad for me (you prick), every country in the world just dropped all of their nuclear warheads on my house while I was at the grocery store, destroying whatever inkling of life I still had left. The nuclear radiation will kill me in five years, if the scarabs from The Mummy that hide in my room don't get to me first.

This is me. EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT.

Now if you'll excuse me, I really feel like writing an article for my blog. Oh, never mind, my tears have short-circuited my computer.

I hope you're happy.

Caleb the how-am-I-not-clinically-depressed.




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