Attachment Crisis and the Freeloading Beast

Yep, it's me again, Socket Seekers.

I have been reflecting on my visit to the underemployed vampires. I checked in via my phone like a good person who would rather talk to an inanimate object than a human. I did venture inside because the phone told me to, and I had to wait 5 of the most agonizing minutes of my life. There was this ancient man who kept staring at me. I think he works for my therapist and he was planted there to see if I would react. I went before the sun came up just in case my suspicions are true, but I think their ability to collect that sample of my hot sauce proves I am not a vampire.

After my visit to the vampiric donation center, I headed over to Wendy's to get a breakfast sandwich with enough butter to lubricate the International Space Station. I figured I had to reload the cholesterol that they removed with my hot sauce-infused blood. I also went and paid my ever-increasing rent to keep my tiny, dingy apartment that is attached to 5 other units.

I am from here on out going to call them attachments. You might say that you can't just rename apartments to attachments, but you are wrong. The US is attempting to slap America on everything and no one is stopping them; yes, I refuse to be associated with this ridiculous behavior. I will, however, rename things that I want to. And if I can hear my neighbor fart in their attachment, then they aren't far enough apart.

Speaking of things we should keep apart and unknown—I might be violating that unknown thing a lot here—I have this stuffed monster that lives in my house. His name is Bobby D Bear. I know you would think a 3-year-old named him; let's pretend that is how that happened. I am an agoraphobe and that means I need to talk to someone sometimes, and that monster is a captive audience.

Let me tell you all about him. First off he doesn't really like me, and for some reason, he really enjoys punching me in the face. He also has claimed the best seat on the couch and refuses to move. He says "That is my space you can't sit there". When I try to say I pay the rent and I bought the couch he tells me to shut up or to be quiet. He also tells me my ideas are stupid and that bears are better than humans. So there is common ground there.

I would consider calling animal control or stuffing him in the dumpster but he is pretty cute. Also he threatens to maul me if I hug him. Talking to him makes me look less crazy or at least I think it does. Please don't tell me the truth on that. And he is pretty nice to hug when the bad thoughts come back but that is the only time he doesn't threaten violence.

Well he is complaining about the sound of the keyboard and his show is over so I have to go turn something else on for him to watch.

Send help.

Useless Recap:

• Phone Check-Ins are superior to human interaction.
• Wendy’s Breakfast can efficiently lubricate low-orbit spacecraft.
• Apartments are officially rebranded as attachments due to acoustic proximity to flatulence.
• Bobby D Bear is a dangerous, couch-stealing roommate who hates human logic but tolerates existential dread.

Disclaimer: Wendy's, I am not saying your butter is a security threat to the space program. Please don't sue me; I need that money to keep the TV on for the giant angry plush beast currently occupying my living room.