So due to a very inconvenient back injury, I've been laid up in bed all day. Don't worry, I'm not trying to score pity; This is going somewhere. Anyway, while I was there, I had an electric heating pad wrapped around me, the kind that plugs into the wall. Because of this, I was pretty much confined to the three-foot radius surrounding the wall outlet, which blew. I started thinking, as I often do, "wouldn't it be neat if this thing didn't have to be plugged into the wall," and from there the insanity just multiplied. "Wouldn't it be neat," I found myself saying out loud, due to the lack of a brain trust, "if this thing didn't have to be plugged into the wall AND it had rocket wings AND it shot pokeballs at my enemies AND fought crime?" Don't think for one second that I didn't transcribe that sentence exactly as I spoke it this afternoon.
New Year's Resolution #13 - Become a Cyborg
Ok, yes, I know what you're thinking. "Kevin, I may have believed that you've dedicated yourself to the goal of eating a homeless person within the next year, but this? Now you're just making shit up."
And that's entirely true. I am just making shit up. But I always follow-through on my wacky ideas, no matter how wacky they get. And that's why I owe Alex $5 for winning a dating site bet. That's also why I made out with a fifty-year-old woman once (just once), and why I pulled my back yesterday by trying to find out how many times I could masturbate in an hour. (I won't tell you how many times. Comprehension would blow your mind.)
The point is, within the next year, I will make it one of thirty-four goals to become part-machine, and also to make sure that the definition of "part-machine" is very loosely defined. For instance, I could craft a chainsaw onto my severed hand (Oh my god are you as excited about Machine Girl as I am? DRILL BRA!) or, I could get a pacemaker. I might end up donating my brain to become the new generation of crimefighter ala Robocop, or I could just use a wheelchair every day of my life for no reason. Actually, there would be plenty of good reasons to use a wheelchair, like using those ultra-big stalls in the mall. Sucks to be you, cripple! I got here first! Anyway, what I'm trying to say is this: It's not that hard to become part-machine these days. And if something isn't hard to do, I'm all over it, like a fat kid on the last cupcake, or a handicapped person who likes to wait on me while I use the biggest stall in the bathroom.