What The Hell Does Rant Mean?

As inspired by Desiree, another conversation with my body.

At work, in the very early morning, standing in front of the vending machine.

Stomach: Just get something! We’re starving here.
Fat Storage: Oh get those zingers. Oh the creamy fatness. We need some new friends in here.
Brain: You have plenty of friends! We just sent a bunch of Latinos down last night from that Mexican Pizza.
Large Intestines: Yes, and they have been partying it up down here allll night!
Fat Storage: What about Cheetos? Can we get Cheetos?
Brain: NO!!! We need to eat healthier here.
Fingers: (Puts in a dollar. Dollar comes back out.) What? no. (Puts in dollar. Dollar comes back out.) NO!! (Smooths out dollar and puts back in machine. Dollar comes back out) I’LL KILL YOU!! (Pounds on machine.) I WILL KICK YOU IN THE GLASS!
Brain: Just put in coins.
Fingers: IT’S THE PRINCIPLE!
Brain: C’mon just do it. We don’t have all day.
Stomach: And we’re staaaaaarrving.
Brain: Quiet you.
Fingers: FINE!!!! (Puts in change)
Eyes: (Reads ‘4F’)
Fingers: (Type in 4F, A bag of Skittles falls down.)
Brain: What did you just do? WHAT DID YOU JUST DO, FINGERS????
Fingers: I was just doing what the eyes told me.
Eyes: Hey now, I didn’t say anything.
Tongue: OH MAN, I hate skittles.
Fingers: What? Sorry. I thought that….SORRY.
Brain: Great. Just great.
Stomach: Just eat them already.
Tongue: No!! We are not eating those disgusting sugary puke nuggets.
Vocal Chords: Hey Aaron, do you want these Skittles? I accidentally got them.
Aaron: Sure.
Stomach: WHAT?? This is no time to be charitable.
Vocal Chords: Sorry, I’m closer to the tongue and I don’t want to hear his whiny ass all day.
Stomach: Well get something.
Fat Storage: Oooo, How about some cheese crackers? I love the Swiss.
Brain: NO, Shut your mouth, fat.
Fat Storage: Well you know there’s a hell of a lot more of us than you.
Brain: What are you saying?
Fat Storage: It’s means whatever you think it means.
Brain: You wouldn’t. You have plenty of friends. We’re trying to get into shape.
Fat Storage: And we’re doing a good job. It’s time for a reward.
Brain: Walking to the vending machine is not enough exercise to merit a reward.
Fat Storage: Don’t use big words with me. FINGERS, PUSH 7C.
Brain: NO, DON’T YOU DARE. YOU BETTER NOT LAY ONE FINGER ON THOSE BUTTONS.
Fat Storage: YOU BETTER FINGERS. I SHIT YOU NOT!
Fingers: Sorry Brain, the Fat scares me. (Pushes 7C, The Jumbo Twinkies fall down)
Stomach: Finally!
Brain: I hate you Fat!

Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!
Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,
il nome mio nessun saprà!
No, no, Dilegua, o notte! Tramontate, stelle!
Tramontate, stelle! All’alba vincerò!
Vincerò! Vincerò!

Nobody shall sleep!… Nobody shall sleep!
But my secret is hidden within me, my name no one shall know… No!…No!
Vanish, o night! Set, stars! At dawn, I will win! I will win! I will win!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9oxTy7KIAaA]

So I normally don’t watch American Idol, America’s Got Talent, etc. I don’t even watch Britain’s Got Talent, but this….this is something of greatness.

“He’s been missing for two days”, she said fingering the curl in her hair. Just then my office was bombed. The whole thing exploded. Both of us dead. I knew it. The terrorists. George W Bush was right. Stupid Bush!

My friend Nick rarely writes in his blog.
This problem I wish to unclog.
But what could I say?
Since he’d prob’bly convey
‘Shut it Jeremy and eat your Jew dog’

See my friend Nick’s blog here. He needs a little encouragement since he rarely blogs.

She was eating a bowl of Fruity Pebbles when she walked through the door to my office. Her blonde hair was all blondish. She had more curves on her than a chopstick. Well, sometimes the end of a chopstick is curvy. And she had two major curves, the upper and the lower. That was her alright, Mallmsy Qualls, and she sort of looked pissed. “Mallsmy, honey. What can I do for you?”, I inquired jauntily to lighten her mood. “Don’t honey me, you son of a bitch. We haven’t dated for 10 years.”, She cursed at me. “Sorry Mallm, what’da ya need?”, I replied more coolly. “It’s my husband, Ralphie, he’s missing. I need your help to find him.”, she put her bowl down on my desk right next to my ‘Jeremy McAllister, Detective’ sign. The spoon flipped out of the bowl springing a pebble onto the green blotter covering most of the hardwood top. She had attitude. I remembered why we weren’t together anymore. She was too independent for me. “And why should I do that?”, I raised my eyebrows. “Because you owe me.”, she snapped. “I owe you, do I? And why is that?”, I folded my arms. “Because you ran over my Cat.”, she sobbed a little. “Oh yeah, I always did like your daughter. Sorry about that. Alright I’ll help”, I said exasperated. I looked in her eyes. They were dark and unkind. Something wasn’t right with this situation. Not right at all. I put my hand in my pocket and carressed my Colt 45.

Tune in for the next episode. I know, I know. Deal with it.