My two favorite things are commitment and changing myself.

If, as has been suggested, a blog is nothing but a sewer for mind defecation, then it should be obvious that I have been suffering from an extreme case of mental constipation. It has been quite painful, I assure you, and as such I have taken steps to fix it. While finding laxatives for your bowels is both easy and fun (that's a reference to youthful days of finding ingenious ways to loosen the bowels of my friend's siblings...), procuring mind laxatives has proven much more difficult for me. I have been told that alcohol and some illegal drugs are great at opening your mind and letting the thoughts spill out unfettered by silly internal dialogue, but my personal morals keep me from partaking in such wonders. I am thus forced to simply push through this ailment unaided.

It is unusual for me to resort to scatological discussions, but even someone as prim and proper as myself has to deal with these issues. The body is lame and weak (a pansy, if you will), and unable to absorb and make use of a startling amount of the food we ingest. Likewise, our brains are constantly absorbing more information than they know how to deal with, and they just have to slough off some of that nasty, stinky waste from time to time. Normally I like to try and pretty it up before I plop it in the porcelain blog, but today my creativity is at an all-time low. I believe I've had a creativoscopy.

Combine all this with the fact that the Internet lines for our office were physically cut yesterday and we may not have Internet access until 5:30 tomorrow evening, and you will understand why I have no choice but to sit here and write whatever comes to mind. I apologize that my mind frame is not in a more pleasing state. I could attempt to talk about butterflies and roses, but such things disgust me... yet I'm up for the challenge.


In an emerald green valley lived a happy little family of butterflies. These were no ordinary butterflies, however. They were rich beyond imagining, for they lived in a giant bed of roses. These roses were also extraordinary, for they grew in colors incomprehensible to the frail human mind. Their beauty was above that of the most beautiful thing you can imagine, and their scent was different for each creature, pandering to what each subject considered to be the most desirable smell of all. Needless to say, the rose butterflies were the envy of all insects everywhere, but there was no ill will within the valley.

The rose butterflies were kind and gracious -- magnanimous even. While it was forbidden by the butterflies' god to allow others into their rose bed, the butterflies did not consider themselves better than their peers, and would give what they could to the betterment of the insect kingdom. Bugs and arachnids, on the other hand, were of course shunned and abused as they should be. It was not uncommon for the butterflies to organize events recalling the Coliseum of Rome, with spiders battling centipedes and snails. It was this combined with the butterflies' completely inoffensive nature that endeared them so much to the Yellow jackets, katydids, ladybugs, earwigs and other insects of the realm. But something was about to go horribly wrong.

One gorgeous day when the happy sun was spreading joy across the rose butterflies' emerald green valley of beauty and splendor, a most joyous event occurred. A caterpillar had recently cocooned itself on the stem of a rose that was the most stunning of any rose that had ever grown in the valley, and on this day the chrysalis opened, revealing a butterfly which was truly a sight to behold! Not only was it most pleasing to every sense, it also drove all thoughts of pooh-related humor and such from the mind. Truly, it was a miracle! But all was not well.

Such beauty as this was never supposed to present itself to our world. Indeed, this butterfly was the proverbial butterfly whose wings would create hurricanes midway around the world. Only in reality, it was much worse. It happened slowly at first, since the valley was accustomed to seeing things more wondrous and amazing than anywhere else in the world, but with time it became apparent that the mere presence of the butterfly was causing drastic changes wherever it went. Anything exposed to the butterfly's wonderment would become self-conscious, noticing every little flaw it possessed when compared to the butterfly. This could only lead to eating disorders, expensive surgeries, and depression. Since medical science had yet to progress far enough to treat insects and roses for eating disorders, slugs had no faces to lift, and bumble bee liposuction hadn't been perfected yet, every object in the valley (both animate and inanimate) gradually descended the downward spiral into the very pit of self-loathing.

The butterfly was not unaware of the suffering it was causing, and so unable to bear seeing the sad state of its friends and family, it left the emerald valley. This proved disastrous for the rest of the world. Being vastly more repulsive and disturbing than those beings which inhabited the valley, those in the rest of the world were instantly driven to insanity. Those who could afford it went to plastic surgeons, but this only resulted in increased depression since even with fake beauty they failed to compare to the butterfly's innate grace. Indeed, even the prettiest and most self-confident of my readers would have been driven to the brink of suicide.

That's why I grabbed my fly swatter and killed the thing. The End.


Ah, well, that was some much-needed relief. I'll try to do this in private next time...

And if you're wondering, the Internet is still down. Work sucks right now.