Imma Fly Magnet... #FML

• Tuesday, 19 January 2016

Imma Fly Magnet... #FML

Penang, Malaysia

RIP, fly-pal.

So yeah, it never ceases to amaze me the amount of literal shit these miscreant creatures give me. I'm sorry, but flies are such a bothersome. The literal epitome and manifestation of annoying and rank (means dirty and gross) and I don't know about you, but I get so conscious about the plethora of germs they're transferring onto me. I'm trash enough; I don't need yours, mind you.
                           

Ugh.

                           
Here in Japan (Why hullo, I'm back!) it's just amazing how the weather is effed up; meaning it's hot as balls. And when it's hot, flies come out quicker than a new version of anything by Microsoft needing to be patched. I mean, what idiot wants them around anyway, right? Like these flies are such a nuisance and it's just an understatement. Flies are always damn touching your face, your food and heck, it could even be touching your phone! I know, gross.

                           
Sure they decompose or whatever but can they decompose themselves and vanish into oblivion? Apparently not of course. I know I'm probably overreacting about one little thing(s) but when a fly tries to land their little grubby thingies on you, then we'll talk.

                           
Not only are they annoying but when you try to kill them, it's like they earned the speed of the Flash or something like what kind of Hogwarts Magic is this shit? Ugh, and do I have to tell you about when flies get stuck into cars and or in between the window and a blinds or curtain and they just sit
there, buzzing for help.

                           
What a bother.

                           
Okay I mean, maybe there might be worse bugs and stuff out there to deal with too (spiders I'm looking at you) but right now, flies are just being their very, very annoying self. Like, I've been dealing with annoying bugs at school too, so please don't put yourself on the list.

                           
Given that I don't look like dog shit, why do they land on me? (Maybe even you). Well apparently, flies suck up dead skin cells, oils and sweats from your face and body. Faaaark no.

                           
So hello, flies of the earth.

                           
This is me, an angry Hafū, trying to maintain his life together and salvage it from falling into pieces. And with your constant and relentless nuisances, I feel as though I am unable to achieve this mere dream (unless my skills as a normal human is holding me back) and that's not good.

                           
Well duh.

                           
So whatever joy you take out on making people frustrated or sucking up dead skin cells from us, I think you gonna have to find a better way to spend your damn spare time. Perhaps play tennis or...or...

                           
LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE.
                          

Ugh.                           

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How The Little Match Girl Ruined My Christmas

• Monday, 28 December 2015

How The Little Match Girl Ruined My Christmas

Seattle, WA 98105, USA

 

A few years back, when I was just a wee kiddo, I remember writing this long-arse Christmas list filled with all of the stuff I ever wanted. (Tea, tea and tea. Books too.)

Anyway, I remember writing this long-arse Christmas list and my dad took a disapproving look at it, scratched his clean-shaven chin, pondered for a moment before saying:

"Yuki, you do know that Santa is an anagram for Satan, don't you? Living to gain possessions won’t make you happy; it's a miserable waste of time."

Then he proceeded to tell me the story of The Little Match Girl. Now, growing up as a kid, I never liked that story because, let's face it, how could I, when there's *spoiler alert* a little girl freezing to death in it? That is not a fairy tale. It should be forbidden by law to let a poor child die in the cold, and for parents to read it to their children like some joyful thing along with all the Brothers Grimm work.

So, where was I again? Ah, the demon - I mean, my father shot me with a finger gun as he winked before continuing.

"How would you feel knowing that somewhere in this world, there are people starving to death, and at the exact moment, someone else is cheering and clapping as they watch someone gobble down fifty corndogs as quickly as they can? Messed up if you think too hard about it, isn’t it?" He concluded cheerily.

FAAARK YES IT WAS MESSED UP!! I was FIVE! Duuuuuude!!!

So, I trudged back to my room and culled my Christmas list, feeling guilty about asking for anything other than air, memories and food for starving nations... 

For *beep* sake, this is exactly what is wrong with me right there.

*sips my Chai Tea and massages temple*

Now, as I am older, slightly wiser but not any more mature, I get it. I do.

Granted, I would go to the same great lengths as to bullshit my kids (if I plan to have any), in the spirit of keeping the Christmas magic intact for them. Unlike a certain someone… Not mentioning any names.

Dad.

Hah, so there you go. NO thank you, Hans C. Anderson's!

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