So the other day I cut through the park on the way to an appointment when I see these babies and I’m like Oh my God, those are the cutest babies ever but where are their parents and OH HOLY SHIT.
THAT BABY IS TOTALLY EATING THAT OTHER BABY’S BRAIN.
And that’s when I’m all “Fuck. That baby is a goddamn zombie”. Fantastic. Oh, and now the other baby is infected and it’s a zombie too. Fucking great. Awesome. That’s exactly what I needed today was to be stalked by two zombie babies. I mean it’s not that big of a deal because they can’t walk yet so I just have to keep shoving their heads away from me with my shoe, except what the hell do I do now? It’s not like I can kill a baby. Even a zombie one. And where the hell are their parents anyway and why is this my problem? GET OFF ME BABIES. And then a police officer shows up and is all “IS THERE A PROBLEM HERE, MA’AM AND WHY ARE YOU KICKING BABIES?!”
And I’m like “No officer, there’s not a problem. I’m just kicking these babies because they’re fucking zombies. And it’s really less of a ‘kick’ than it is a ‘benign but effective defensive maneuver’. What? No, actually I’m not going to lay down on the ground with my hands behind my head because that’s where the zombie babies are.” And then I got distracted because the officer was being an asshole and that’s when one of the babies chewed through my Achilles tendon.
So long story short? Yeah. I had a terrible day.
PS. This post is really just a metaphor for the kind of day I’m having because someone sent me that picture and he was all “I thought this would cheer you up” and I’m all “THESE ZOMBIE BABIES ARE FUCKED UP. STOP SENDING ME THIS SHIT” and my friend implied that I have emotional problems for immediately jumping to the conclusion that the baby was a zombie but I have an excuse because I’m dying. And yes, that’s a slight exaggeration but not by much because I’m taking this chemo drug for my rheumatoid arthritis and it’s making me throw up a lot and and the outside of the bottle is all “YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE“.
Actual text meant to scare the shit out of you, I assume:
“Some side effects of methotrexate may cause death. You should only take methotrexate to treat life-threatening cancer, or certain other conditions that are very severe and that cannot be treated with other medications”
Which sounds ungood, right? But actually my arthritis has been in a remission for the last couple months so technically the worst part was just the treatment itself because it makes me throw up all the time. So last week I convinced my doctor to cut my 10 pill dose down to 8 pills which was awesome because I stopped throwing up but then I woke up this morning and I can barely walk. Awesome. And what really sucks is that NO ONE EVEN KNOWS WHY THIS DRUG WORKS. They’re guessing it *may* work because it fucks up your immune system and keeps cells from growing properly so your body attacks your immune system instead of your joints. Because who needs a working immune system when you have an autoimmune disease that makes you so sick that your best option is to take a drug that can kill you? Basically it’s like being stabbed in the neck to take your mind off your stubbed toe. And that’s why today my feet feel like tiny zombies have been gnawing on them. See what I did there? Full circle. Moral: Rheumatoid arthritis is worse than being attacked by baby zombies. I think someone has said that before. Probably Hemingway.
Comment of the day: I think this is just evolution in action: the big baby is going straight for the brain, & the little one is trying to figure out how to eat a SHOE. I’m assuming survival of the fittest works for zombies. I mean they’re technically dead, right? I’m confusing myself now. ~ Drolgerg