Actual Conversations: Space Invaders Edition **LINK FIXED!**

Ever the sci-fi nerd, Cody sent me a link to an article from NBC News about how we are most definitely not alone in the universe.  Ever the horror nerd, I turned it into being about zombies. You should read it first (or at least skim it) so that the following instant message conversation makes more sense.....
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Cody says:
Babe!  Check out this article!!

Rae says:

I'm seeing some rad sci-fi movies coming our way after this discovery

Cody says:
Yeah... hopefully not more cowboys and aliens though.  LOL.

Rae says:

Like, how about a movie that takes place in the future where we find another planet with humans on it, only some crucial, yet unnoticeable things are different so we become mutated or get in a war or need to escape but the ship breaks down and the "other" humans start to eat us......

Cody says:
That would be rad
Or like, another planet with bizzaro versions of our selves
Like the Futurama episode with the universe boxes

Rae says:
OR like, we have to evacuate earth because a life-ending meteor is coming, so we find an earth-like planet and settle in and build a civilization. Then things start to go south because the oxygen is different or the plants are poisonous or zombies come up out of the ground and eat us

Cody says:
Yeah.... that sounds pretty cool

Rae says:

OR like, we make friends with the other "humans" on the other planets, but then one of our people breeds with one of their "people" and they give birth to a demon zombie "person" and it eats us.

Cody says:
Yeah... that would be cooh
You're all about the things that eat us.

Rae says:

I'm pretty sure we're gonna get eaten before this is over

Just saying

What would you do if there WAS a bizzaro earth 

And you went there and ran into bizzaro Rae 

Only she was ten times hotter than me?

Cody says:
Impossible

Rae says:

And then you had to choose between us?

Cody says:
Can't exist, since you are the pinnacle of hotness

Rae says:
PFFFTTT.......well thanks babe!
But seriously, answer the question.

Cody says:
But if it were even possible, she'd probably have to be our girlfriend. Heh.

Rae says:

But what if Rae + Bizzaro Rae = Zombie Death Rae and we both eat you?

HA!  Get it?  "Death Rae"? 

Cody says:
ROFLCOPTERS!

Rae says:

Maybe we would morph into one mega being that would rule both Earth AND Bizzaro Earth....

With lasers from our eyes

And mind control.

And wily powers of persuasion.....

Cody says:
Heh
I want beer and wine
That's what I want

Rae says:

So you DONT want a sexy Bizzaro Rae scenario, you just want a beer?  

.....You're boring.......

Cody says:
 I want to find a bizzaro earth, where the beer flows like wine, and the alcohol is super special cuz it doesn't give you hangovers or kill brain cells

Rae says:

But it still makes you drunk, right?

Cody says:
 Of COURSE!  Otherwise, what would be the point?

Rae says:

Toupe.......

But what if you drank the hangover free beer and then it turned you into a zombie with a thirst, not for more beer, but for eating people?

Cody says:
Then I guess I'd eat people

Rae says:

I wonder if we taste like chicken.....?

Cody says:
As for me, I'll have salad
With chicken

Rae says:

If you could taste a human, free of consequences, would you?

Like, say an old guy volunteers to be slain and cooked.  For science.  Would you eat him?

Cody says:
I would try it.  It's only meat.

Rae says:
That's icky

What if it's like baby lamb vs old mutton

The old sheep are all gamey and sinewy. 

 Maybe the old man would be all tough like an old sheep.

Cody says:
And gross......

Rae says:

Would you eat a baby?  

That would be like eating veal, kind of......

Like, if it died very unfortunately of natural causes and was prepared right afterward so it was still fresh?

Cody says:
Would take major seasoning and marinade
Would you?

Rae says:

Uh, no........that's sick.  You're sick.

The taste would be terrible.

I wouldn't eat people EVER.  That would wreck you for life

I mean, there's a reason cannibalism is frowned upon in most societies.... 

Cody says:
Yeah maybe

Rae says:

But I WOULD eat a zombie

If you eat a zombie, do you then possess its powers?

I think if you ate zombie, you'd get infected and BECOME a zombie.

Cody says:
Yeah.......you would.

Rae says:  

It might be fun to be a zombie.  

Cody says:
Your mind is so messed up.

Rae says:

This is SO going on the blog.....

[Cody has signed out of messenger]

A Voice Message From Lucifer

If you know me at all, you know that I could be described as “morbidly curious”.  My friend Jacquelyn calls it the “dark and twisties”, which is apparently something someone said on Grey’s Anatomy.  I wouldn’t know because that’s not a show about Jack the Ripper or ebola outbreaks so I’ve never watched it.  The last four books I read were written by Stephen King, 75% of the DVDs I own are horror movies, and I spend a pretty significant amount of time thinking about what I would do during a zombie apocalypse.  Needless to say, it takes a lot to scare me.

Now that you know a little more about me, let me tell you about the time my mom and I got a voicemail from the Prince of Darkness......

The other day, I was at a job interview taking some aptitude tests.  I was alone in a little room trying to fumble my way through a billion questions about Microsoft Excel when my emergency work phone rang.  I didn't answer- mostly because I was afraid they were watching me on a secret camera and it wouldn’t look good if I answered in the middle of my test.  After the interview, I checked the work phone and the call had come from a 901 area code, which I did not recognize.  I don’t have any clients whose family comes from a 901 area code.  They left no message and when I called the number back, it simply said “this voice mailbox is full.”  I didn’t think another thing of it.  Until that night…….

Cody was out of town on business, so I had my sister and her fiancé over for dinner.  In the middle of dinner, we both got a text from our mother saying that she just got a terrifying voicemail message.  I called her up, figuring she was the victim of a prank.  She informed me that she didn’t recognize the number it came from and that it had scared the living daylights out of her.  It was too horrible to talk about, she said.  I asked her to give me the number, intending to call the bastard who left the voicemail and rip them a new one.  Then she gave me the number.  Which had a 901 area code………

 A little red flag went up in my mind.  901, 901......Why was that familiar?  A light went on.  I checked my work phone-  my unlisted, unpublished, emergency work phone.  Only a small handful of clients have access to that number and it is not on my business cards or our web site.  It’s nowhere.  It’s a ghost number.  And the missed call from earlier that day had been from the exact same number that had just called my mom. I immediately called her back and insisted she forward me the voicemail.  She refused.  No way was she listening to it again, she said.  It was that terrifying.  I explained how to forward it without listening to it and she sent it to me. 

What I heard can only be described as the rantings of some other-worldly beast.  It started out with heavy breathing and throaty, raspy growling.  After a few seconds of  breathing into the phone, a bone-chilling voice said:

“You…[growl]…….will DIE someday…[growl]…and then you will be my servant…FOREVER…” 

I froze.

My mom and I had both missed a call from the underworld.  

Ever the brainiacs, Kenna and Ken began to do research on the internet, trying to determine where the number was from because surely there must be a logical explanation.  But it was a Memphis area code and it was untraceable.  While they debated what sort of living, breathing, garden variety psycho could be harassing our family, my mind raced with possibilities- none of them logical and most of them having to do with voodoo curses and sinister beings concocted by Stephen King.  Long after they went home, leaving me alone in the house,  I paced back and forth, desperately trying to figure out who we had pissed off and how much longer we had to live.   I thought of Richard Gere in The Mothman Prophecies, trapped in a podunk West Virginia town by a demonic moth-creature of doom.  Richard Gere got all kinds of sinister calls from this mothman, whose voice was almost as terrifying as the one now lurking in my voicemail box.  Surely it had been the mothman.

Or maybe it wasn't the mothman.  Maybe it was the devil.  Why would the devil be calling us?  Was I a reincarnated axe murderer?  Was this karma coming back to take revenge for the dozens of innocents I'd slain in a previous life?  Or had my mom become possessed by an evil spirit and then transferred it to me through the telephone?  It was like The Ring only instead of a video, it was a phone message.  You get the call and 7 days later, you die- all dried up and horrifying with your phone burned to your earlobe.  As it got later and later, I went through the motions of getting ready for bed, silently wondering why Beelzebub couldn't have called when Cody WASN'T in San Francisco.  I decided to go to bed, but the bed looked an acre wide and desolately empty.  It had finally happened. A decade of assaulting my brain with the world's most terrifying shit had come back to bite me in the ass. 

No sleeping occurred that night.  I gave up trying to explain it to myself using logic or reason.  Like a six year old kid afraid of the boogeyman, I sat awake, covers pulled up to my eyeballs, waiting for a legion of demon spawn to march out of the closet and melt my eyeballs or impregnate me with an unwanted Damien child or make me rip my hair out like the tormented Emily Rose.  I imagined my mom back in Idaho Falls, possessed by a fiendish imp, smiling menacingly as she drowned all the neighborhood children in her bathtub.  My imagination turned against me, spinning a horrifying web of possibilities.  I jumped at the slightest noise.  The cats sat at the foot of the bed, eyeballing me curiously as I desperately tried to calm myself enough for sleep to come.  Finally, around 4am, I fell into a light doze, but I woke again long before my alarm and got ready for work in a sleep-deprived trance.  On the way to work, I saw zombies at every bus stop and monsters behind the wheels of cars.  My lack of sleep had taken me off the deep end.

I was drowsing at my desk later that morning when my phone rang.  My eyes flew open.  I froze.   It was the Prince of Darkness.  I knew it.  I picked up the phone, ready for my blood to curdle and my ears to bleed.....   

It was my mom. 

She had discovered the culprit.  The voicemail had not, in fact, come from Lucifer, but from my little brother’s friend M.J.  He had attempted to invite my brother over to play, but when he got no answer, he left the message just to be a dumbass.  The missed call from the 901 area code had been unrelated- a telemarketer trying to scam people out of their credit card information.  After doing some investigating, we discovered that the same number had also called a few of my co-workers and several of my friends the same day.  

I was furious.  I felt foolish.  I had been bested by an 8-year-old sociopath.  I, a 25 year old woman, had stayed up all night- reduced to a whimpering and paranoid buffoon, because of a small child.  How could this have happened?  This child had truly frightened me, something not even the great writings of Edgar Allen Poe or the twisted film making of M. Night Shyamalan could accomplish ( Not M. Night Shyamalan circa "Lady in the Water" .....  earlier M. Night Shyamalan circa "Sixth Sense".  "Lady in the Water" was just ridiculous.  I mean, WTF kind of piece of crap was that?  What the hell, M. Night Shyamalan?).  

What kind of a sick twisted little kid could even make himself sound so deliciously mortifying? I was almost jealous.  I swore I would seek justice.  If this child ever encountered me, he would be met with a fury like hell hath no.  He would spend the remainder of his childhood sipping creamed corn through a straw. 

Watch out, M.J.  You pissed off the wrong woman.......

Yay for the Bloggess

So, the weather is shitty and we all have spring fever and our shorts and sandals are screaming for us to let them out of the closet.  In order to combat everyone's seasonal depression, I present to you, courtesy of my favorite blogger, a photo of Wil Wheaton collating papers:

If that doesn't cheer you up, then you can just get bent because this is pretty much the most awesome thing ever.
Click here to go to the original page containing this picture on The Bloggess' Website
Happy Crappy Weather, everyone.  Thank you, Bloggess!!

*ALSO, I still do not have 50 followers and it's almost the end of March and if I don't have 50 followers, no one is getting cupcakes, so hurry and get me more followers please. 

Actual Conversations- Office Edition

 I've found it quite amusing for the past few months to make note of my interactions with Jerad.  Jerad is our secretary.  I'd like to say Jerad was hired for his skills and qualifications, but he was really hired because the only other person who showed up to interview was a girl with spiky bleached blond hair, a plaid flannel shirt, three inch ear gauges, and a tattoo on the back of her neck that said "Rebel Forever".  She was an hour late, she explained, because she lives in Caldwell and doesn't have a car and the guy who drove her overslept (at 3pm) and had to stop for a carton of smokes.  Jerad was the clear choice because not only was he on time, he wore business clothes, had his own transportation, and didn't smell like booze and regret. 

I feel a little bad for Jerad, but I also feel like if you upset him, he might smile serenely as he very quietly strangled the life out of you and then ground up your remains so he could have a barbeque. 

No one in our office spells Jerad's name correctly.  It's an unusual spelling.  Anita spells it Jared, Lynne spells it Jered, Jan spells it Jerrad.  Mary spells it Jarad.   I spell it Jason.  He corrected me once, but I simply informed him that I'll be calling him Jason from now on.

Jerad Jason just turned 30 years old and he can't spell ANYTHING.  I've seen him spell Wednesday wrong twice, different spellings both times.  Wensday and Wendsday.  He put a Happy Valintines Day note on the office calendar.  I have a thing about spelling.  If you're over the age of 15 and you don't know how to spell it, it had better be french, a chemical, or at least 10 letters long.  If you're not sure, you look it up.   I am a superb speller.  I don't know how to spell everything.  But I know how to use dictionary.com.

Jerad is awkward and a little creepy.  He reminds me a little of that actor who plays Percy in the Green Mile.  He's always lurking outside my office doorway breathing heavily, presumably working up the gumption to come in and ask me whatever question he might have at the moment.  Sometimes he sends me emails with lots of pictures of lions and tigers attached and he always asks me if I want anything from Wendy's- even when he's not going for himself.  I can always use a Wendy's chili, but I'm not asking Creepy McWeirdzoid to go get it for me.


Jerad talks incredibly softly, even annoyingly softly- necessitating constant use of the phrase "come again?" on my part.  Instead of talking louder when I say this, he just moves closer to me.

Since he's got a screw loose and I'm socially retarded, we've had some interesting conversations.
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[Jerad appears in my office doorway.]
Jerad:  Um, Rae?
Me:  Yep?
Jerad:  My highlighter is out of ink. [holds up the highlighter]
Me:  Well, that's unfortunate.  I'm sorry to hear that.
[uncomfortable silence]
Jerad:  Would it be ok if I get a new one out of the supply closet?
Me:  Yes, I imagine that would be just fine.
[Disappears to the supply closet, which is just outside my office.  I hear rustling around.  He reappears, holding a box.]
Jerad:  These are really nice highlighters.  Have you seen them?  They're "gel" highlighters.
Me:  That's pretty neat, I guess.
[uncomfortable silence]
Jerad:  Would it be ok if I had one of these?
Me:  You know, why don't you take two?  They're small.
Jerad:  Wow!  Thanks!
Me:  You can have whatever you want out of there, Jason.  I don't care.
Jerad:  Really?  Ok!
[Disappears again.  I hear rustling.  Reappears with another box.]
Jerad:  These paperclips are rainbow colored.  Think its ok if I take a few for my desk?
Me:  No, those are mine.
Jerad:  Oh.....ok.
Me:  I'm kidding.  You can have them.  You can have whatever you like from the supply closet, Jason.  I don't care.
Jerad:  Heh.....good one.  Ok thanks.
[Disappears.  Reappears]
Jerad:  Does this stapler belong to anyone?
Me:  [sigh]  Is someone's name on it?
Jerad:  Uh....no. [with worried expression] Are we supposed to put our name on our stuff?
Me:  No.  I was kidding again.  Take the stapler.  Take whatever you want.
Jerad:  Oh!  Heh....I gotcha.  Well thanks.  My stapler up front jams a lot and then I have to restaple stuff.
Me:  That's too bad.
Jerad:  Yeah.  Well, I'm gonna take this one, then.
Me:  That's just super, Jason.  Take whatever you want.
[Disappears, then calls out from the supply closet]
Jerad:  Rae?
Me:  You can have whatever you want, Jason.  I promise.


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[Jerad appears in office doorway]
Jerad:  Rae?
Me:  Yes?
Jerad:  I made some more coffee.
Me:  Roger.
Jerad:  It's Jerad.
Me:  What?
Jerad:  You called me Roger just now.
Me:  [sigh] No, I meant 'Roger'.  Like, as in 'Roger that'?  As in, '10-4 good buddy, over and out'.......?  Like walkie-talkies......?
Jerad:  OH!  Heh....good one. 
[Stands there awkwardly]
Me:  Anything else I can do for you?
Jerad:  Do you want some coffee?
Me:  Uh...no.  I have some.  I'm good.  Thanks though.
Jerad:  Need me to top it off or heat it up or anything?
Me:  No, thanks.  I can do my own coffee stuff.  Thanks though.
Jerad:  [looks crestfallen] Oh.  All right then.

-----------------------------------
Our office is very small.  Sometimes, rather than getting up, we just yell to each other from one office to another.  We really only use the intercom if we need to have a personal conversation or if there are clients in the office.  Jerad likes to use the intercom to call for very simple things.

[Intercom rings]
Me: This is Rae.
Jerad:  Is this Rae?
Me: ............Yes.....?
Jerad:  Rae, this is Jerad.  From the front desk?
[Not only can I hear him over the phone, I can also hear him just outside my office.  And I'm pretty sure I know which Jerad it is.  The creepy one.]
Me: .........Yes, Jason.
Jerad:  I'm going to step out for a minute.
Me:  Uh.....ok.  Go ahead.
Jerad:  Oh, thanks!  Be right back.
[I hang up the phone.  One office over, I hear Jan's intercom ring]
Jan:  Hello, this is Jan.
Jerad:  Hi, is this Jan?
Jan: .......Yes.....?
Jerad:  Jan, this is Jerad.  From the front desk?
Jan:  Oh, that Jerad.
[ROFL]
Jerad:  Yeah, its me.  I'm stepping out for a minute.
Jan:  Uh....ok.
[Lynne's phone rings]...............
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A few days ago, I had a brutal, groggy, caffeine free day because we ran out of coffee filters.  Jerad asked if, since he couldn't make coffee, I wanted him to go to the gas station across the street and buy me some coffee there.  His treat.  I said no thanks, I was going to drink tea today anyways because I'd been sick with a sore throat.  Two hours later, I was dying of caffeine under-dose, but I would have felt like a dick going and buying myself some coffee after that.  I debated climbing out the window and making a break for the Shell station, but instead, I just dozed in my office until he went home for the day.

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Jerad's birthday was a few days ago.  He must have thought that we give a crap about birthdays because he posted it on the office calendar like it was some sort of holiday.  Coincidentally, a client brought in a box of donuts for the office that same day.  Jerad took the donuts home with him when he left at noon because he thought they were his "birthday donuts".  The next day he sent everyone an email that said "Thanks for the birthday donuts" and it had a picture of a liger attached to it.

-----------------------------------

I sent out an email to my co-workers explaining that one of my clients is homeless now and asked that if he calls, would they please attempt to find out where he is.  Against my better judgement, I included Jerad on the email, mostly because he answers the phone.  He came to my office five minutes later to ask for a photo of the client so that he could make copies and write my cell phone number on the back and take them around to the shops downtown to hand them out.  I said no, that's not his job and we aren't a milk company posting lost children on the back of the cartons and I don't want this client (or anyone else, for that matter) having my cell number anyways.  He came back a few minutes later to ask for the file so that he could do some research on the guy.  I said no, he is just the secretary and he doesn't need to look through the files and I've already done all the research.  He said "So you don't really care if we find him, then?"  I said no.

------------------------------------

When Jerad heard that my mom is sick, he came into my office and cried.  He cried.  I'm not a big crier and I'm DEFINITELY not a public crier, so I was quite taken aback by this.  Then he sent me one of those forwarded forwarded forwarded emails about how if you eat 4 tablespoons of pureed asparagus per day, it will clear up your cancer in no time.  I replied, saying how he should probably get the word out because finding a cure for cancer using asparagus is a pretty big deal and don't we feel silly for spending all these billions of dollars on cancer research when we could have been using it to plant asparagus.  Then he came back and said he lost his mom two years ago to cancer and he wished he'd known about the asparagus when she was alive and I felt like a dick.


So I guess the moral of this blog is that Rae is a dick..........

Also, if I disappear before I leave this job, you might want to head over to Jerad's house because he's probably having a barbeque.

Actual Conversations: The Stroke

Last weekend, Cody and I got up and made coffee.  We were enjoying our coffee, when I noticed that Cody looked a little.....funny.  His mouth seemed to be drooping slightly on one side.

At the moment I noticed this, I had an important decision to make- say something or shut it.  I, of course, chose incorrectly.

Me:  "Hey Code- I think there's something wrong with your mouth."
Cody:  "What?"
Me:  "It's sort of droopy on one side.  Does it feel funny?"
Cody [poking at his face]:  "No....."

He got up and went to the nearest mirror to investigate.  Upon seeing the problem (which wasn't egregious, but definitely noticeable) I sensed he may have been slipping into a carefully controlled panic.

Cody:  "What would cause that?"
Me [jokingly]:  "Probably just a minor stroke."

Carefully controlled panic over.  Full blown hysteria commencing........

Cody:  "Does a stroke do that?"
Me:  "Well, sometimes if someone has a stroke, one side of their body will droop or lose feeling.  But I was just kidding.  You didn't have a stroke."
Cody:  "What if I did?"
Me:  "You didn't."
Cody:  "What if I did?"
Me:  "You didn't."
Cody:  "How do you know?"
Me:  [sigh] "Because I just know.  I've had clients who had strokes.  You didn't have a stroke.  I was just teasing.  You're fine."
Cody:  "Well how would we know if I did?"
Me:  "Are you having difficulty swallowing your coffee?"
Cody:  "No."
Me:  "Are you having difficulty talking or saying words?"
Cody:  "No."
Me:  "Is your vision blurred in one eye?"
Cody:  "No."
Me:  "Do you feel weak on one side of your body?"
Cody:  "No."
Me:  "You didn't have a stroke."
Cody:  "What if I did?"
Me:  "You didn't."
Cody:  "Well what is it then?"
Me:  "I don't know, Cody.  Maybe your lip is swollen or something."

Cody spent the rest of the morning poking at his face, moving his mouth around, and running to the mirror to see if it had gone away.  Periodically he asked "Could I have had a stroke?" and "What if I did have a stroke?" and "What would it be if it wasn't a stroke?"  I suggested perhaps he had Bell's Palsy because clearly I hadn't learned my lesson from suggesting a stroke and should have known that strokes aren't funny and I didn't really think it was Bell's Palsy either.  Now he was worried about a stroke AND Bell's Palsy and he didn't even know what Bell's Palsy WAS.

All throughout that morning, he continued to check back with me, just in case I had changed my mind about his possible Transient Ischemic Attack.  At one point, he asked me how I would assess whether a client had a stroke, so I agreed to administer a mini mental status exam.   This was more to calm him down than to actually determine his cognitive state, but it seemed like a reasonable idea.

Me:  "Do you know what day it is?"
Cody:  "Saturday."
Me:  "What is the date?"
Cody:  "Uh....25th.  NO!!  Is it?  Did I have a stroke? I don't know the date."
Me:  "Calm down.  Lots of people don't know the date.  I don't know the date half the time.  It's fine."
Cody:  "Wait!  It's the 26th!  Boo-ya!"
Me:  "Yeah I guess it is......Do you know what city we're in?"
Cody:  "Boise"
Me:  "Repeat after me- 'no ifs ands or buts'."

After he had repeated this, spelled "WORLD" backwards, counted backward from 100 by 7's (which I always thought was a mean question to ask people because I can only do that if I have a calculator and I don't even have dementia) and answered a half dozen more questions about who the president is and whether he could remember some things I'd said earlier,  I pronounced him stroke free.  This alleviated his concerns for at least five seconds.......

All day long, he asked me for status updates as to whether I thought his face had returned to normal.  Eventually it did.  He remains perplexed by the mouth drooping incident, so if any of you have a suggestion as to what may have caused it, I'd love to know what it is so I will be prepared for future occurrences. 

I should know better than to react to these types of things.  Once, a year or so ago, we were leaving his parent's house after eating dinner there and on our way to the car, in the glow of the garage lights, I noticed he looked a little unusual.

These days, I'm more familiar with Cody's tendency to be a worrier.  If it had happened NOW, I would probably have just noted it quietly to myself and waited for it to go away or for him to notice on his own.  But this was earlier on in our relationship and I wasn't as knowledgeable.  In hindsight, I may have reacted a bit poorly.

 

Of course, once he saw his pupils, he was certain he must be only a few short moments from death.  Realizing I might possibly have overreacted, I tried to smooth things over, but I had already dropped the proverbial turd in the punch bowl.

When his parents could offer no rational explanation, I drove us home, in case he had a seizure or a demonic possession while driving.  On the way, I called my sister and asked her to pull up WebMD on her computer and help us figure out why he had zombie pupils.  When there was no solace from the online world, we resorted to calling the "Ask A Nurse" line.  In his panicked state, he had forgotten that a few minutes before, he had put eye drops in one of his eyes because that eye felt dry.  Apparently eye drops can dilate your pupils.  So clearly Visine does more than just get the red out and I think they should add something to their slogan about their product's potential to cause demon-spawn pupil dilation. 

Charlie Sheen is a Beekeeper

I'm sure some of you may know that Charlie Sheen is nuttier than a fruitcake or a shit-house rat.  If you DIDN'T know that, here's a video to catch you up:

 

My favorite blog, The Bloggess, posted a blog recently about an awesome new super rad time-waster.  Vanity Fair now provides us with the opportunity to compose our own spectacular Charlie Sheen-esque rant using STARK RAVING MAD LIBS!!  Yay!  Here's mine:

You can do your own mad lib by clicking this link.  When you're done, you should post yours in the comments section so we can all laugh together.  But not AT Charlie Sheen.  WITH Charlie Sheen because otherwise he might shank us with a banana peel.