Contracted Stage 2
Overall Recommendation
Recommendation?
Fucking rules. Should be watched immediately after the first one. Which is as good, even if I haven’t seen it in almost a decade. I do regret eating all them there mushrooms earlier this evening- or rather, last night, since it’s 6:25 am. I should have just watched this straight through, but, I just couldn’t. That shit kicked way too heavy. I thought I was part of a clock. But anyway- I feel like I should be writing lots here, but I also feel like I should just stick a gold star sticker on my laptop screen and call it an A+. I have no idea where this movie is going- they’re definitely set up for a 3rd, and if I weren’t terminally lazy and prone to fits of overconsumption and resultant burnout I could be the type of person who checks to see if they are. But, Cluster-Bee-Sorry. This movie has a little of everything- and all in the right proportions. Now, I have exactly one criticism of this movie. (I also have a couple minor complaints, but they’re too small to mention…) If you’re going to go ALL IN on a NECROTIC STD movie, you *HAVE* to bring something more hardcore to the table than meal worms. Seriously. I was so let down each time so much effort was put into something that every 12 year old knows you feed to lizards. You want to really get people? Try Phyllodoce Rosea for something to pull out from under your skin. That said, kudos and applause, and I like I said, I can’t wait to forget enough about this one to watch the first one again.
Plot Autopsy
Plot Autopsy
- I ate a bunch of mushrooms that I shouldn’t have eaten.
- I bailed on the review and spent most of the night curled up with my dog under a blanket on the bed eating snacks.
- When I was able to resume the review, Riley was pulling meal worms out of his body and I thought he was gonna cut his dick off in a gas station bathroom.
- But he didn’t, although he pissed blood everywhere
- Then there’s a big standoff with cops and stuff
- And we realize the guy we thought was the bad guy is just a pawn himself. And to take less mushrooms.
Zombie Description
Zombie Description
Fucking bloody hell, this is the worst kinda zombie thingy ever to be done. (I’m still a little mushy from the mushrooms) SO… there’s this dude named Brent, or BJ, who raped a girl in the first movie, who then had sex with a guy in the first movie, so we start this movie off with him figuring out he’s got the “Necrotic STD” and trying to find the Brent dude while accidently passing the infection to a couple people. Like, everything zombie applies, I think- a zombie bites you, you turn into a zombie (assuming they did not consume the majority of you? maybe?), but if you have sex with someone who is infected, even kiss them, you got it. And then you start sneezing and puking and pissing blood and meal worms materialize under your skin. Still not 100% about that last bit.
Where the money went
Where the money went
This is a genius work of art that is fucking bloody disgusting. Who in their right mind would make a movie, let alone two movies, about a “Necrotic STD”? These people decided to, and they made great fucking movies. The production values here are professional, there’s nothing B movie about it. It’s quite indie, but that’s more in feel than anything I know about it’s production. But the red… Jesus, there’s so much red. I’m not complaining, I’m just pointing out that fake red must have been a huge expenditure for this movie. I haven’t seen this much red since Cabin Fever. I think that’s what I’m thinking of.
Best Weapon
Best Weapon
Mustaches. I mean, there wasn’t much fighting off of zombies- just the occasional shoot them until they stop moving, or scalp them and THEN shoot them until they stop moving… but Dewey’s mustache… onto Dalton… and a cameo broom-sweeper by the 5 and dime clerk? Mustaches are what makes the world go around, ladies and gentlemen. That and shooting zombies in the head.
Can I get a hand?
Can I get a hand?
There really wasn’t any of that kinda zombie stuff here, ‘cause this isn’t that kind of zombie movie. This isn’t a “fear the hordes of undead” kinda flick, this is more of a “I’m rotting from the inside out and I’m not referring to last night’s Burrito Supreme special.” This is a movie where you’re not afraid of hands smashing at the windows, you’re afraid to pee. I mean, when you think about it, which really IS scarier? Hungry undead or experiencing your own decay? Here’s something to think about. Octopi actually do die this way. They don’t live long, and they have essentially a clock built into their DNA, and when they start aging, they literally start breaking down while still alive. Maybe this is true of everything, it’s just easier to see when it’s a chameleonic invertebrate that leaves nothing but a beak in it’s wake.
That was new!
That was new!
I’ve never seen a zombie movie that goes so deeply into the minutiae of what becoming a zombie is. Unless, of course, we consider the first of these two. The gore level of this was… fuck, you go ahead and mix sex and gore and show me anything positive or enjoyable or Christmas card worthy. I’ve never seen a guy piss blood like that- big gushing red hemorrhage. I got to piss blood once, too- picked a fight with a cop in a police station. I might have winced after the beating while pissing pink, but that’s one cop who can’t say he’s never been struck in the head with a payphone by a drunk.
Review Notes
Review Notes
Ahhh yes. Starting out with horns in your ears and zombies in your face. Good stuff!
Zombie… crashed her car.
Cops…
Mom…
I honestly can’t tell you who I’d rather not fuck with more between those two. My Mom has Napoleonic DNA and an evil streak just thin enough to be funny. Yet noticeable.
Oh. Well. End mommy and roll title.
I haven’t seen many gunshots to the eye, but that looks realistic, I guess.
Ok, yes, we see the fucking word ABANDON tattooed on the inside of his finger, but honestly, it looks like it reads ABADDON. Ok. I have eaten my words, and although they were delicious, they falter before the true meaning of Abaddon. Per Wiki “The Hebrew term Abaddon (Hebrew: אֲבַדּוֹן ’Ăḇadōn, meaning “destruction”, “doom”), and its Greek equivalent Apollyon (Koinē Greek: Ἀπολλύων, Apollúōn meaning “Destroyer”) appear in the Bible as both a place of destruction and an angel of the abyss. In the Hebrew Bible, abaddon is used with reference to a bottomless pit, often appearing alongside the place Sheol (שְׁאוֹל Šəʾōl), meaning the resting place of dead peoples. In the Book of Revelation of the New Testament, an angel called Abaddon is described as the king of an army of locusts; his name is first transcribed in Koine Greek (Revelation 9:11—”whose name in Hebrew is Abaddon,”) as Ἀβαδδών, and then translated Ἀπολλύων, Apollyon. The Vulgate and the Douay–Rheims Bible have additional notes not present in the Greek text, “in Latin Exterminans”, exterminans being the Latin word for “destroyer”.” So, like, it’s not a hack-job tattoo. I’m simply fucking ignorant.
I really hate scalpels.
I really hate autopsy shit.
I wonder what that saw smells like?
Meal worms, I guess.
Day 4? I suppose the first movie covers the first 3 days.
Some guy getting his blood drawn…
“So what, exactly, am I testing for?”
“Uh… Everything?” Yeah. Didn’t I just write about how fun these conversations are?
“Well, I hope she was worth it.”
A week? Yeah, that’s…
Oh. Dude is at his brother-in-law’s.
Although I understand that Dane Cook is liked by The Wrong Kind of White People, I agree with him on some shit. And I think his Alien thing is funny. But why… did I bring him up? Oh! Yeah! I agree!! If you said Green Apple, meet me in the lobby and I will stab you in the neck!
Back to the movie.
Unbuttoning for the nurse?
He’s got some weird thing jammed in his back! Looks like he got scratched…
Oh. Yuck. That came loose with… oh shit. That was so fucking gross. I want to puke. Fucking fingernail.
Dude has a very long looking nose. In profile, not so much. Must be the mushrooms.
Who pronounces both syllables of “Water” as if they’re individual words?
We’re flashing back to a corpse in the tub…
A corpse that’s reanimated.
And bleeding all over him.
A knife?
Well, that… worked? Wow.
“I’m going through changes.” Ozzy did it better.
Oh, shit… yeah, the first one was really gory.
That was a lot of mushrooms for such a gory movie. I’m beginning to think I may have chosen poorly.
Some memory of watching a bouncing car…
And patient zero?
That’s the corpse that attacked him!
And a funny accent!!
Should have eaten something before those mushrooms.
A note on his windshield calling him a “Big Mouth”… Who? What?
“Let’s not cry because she’s gone, let’s smile because she happened.”
Whoah these are kicking in.
His grandmother pushing the hard stuff on him!
“Don’t be such a pussy. It’ll put hair on your chest.”
And then… you found drink.
He’s calling the cops now…
And that’s a Hollywood hooker. Real ones are a lot skinnier, less glossy, and talk incessantly.
Still no reason to inject her in the brain with something?
Now we’re on Day 5?
Fountains. Jogging. Good stuff.
He found some weird shit under the tunnel. What was that?
A toothbrushing scene.
Looking really close at our own eyes.
Noticing that the scratches are really infected and that’s a lot of pus.
I don’t think hydrogen peroxide hurts that much.
Yeah. I really should have eaten, I just sorta hurled nothing into my mouth, a dry heave of epic proportions. I’m not able to finish this review, the mushrooms are too strong. I want to be doing something else.
So… it’s now 2:42 in the morning. According to the timestamp on the photo I took of the first mushroom, I started at 9:20. So… Yeah. That was way too intense. I hid under a blanket with my dog and ate gummies and blueberries and dry oatmeal. I had fractals, sounds, colors: everything was meshed until the bed my dog and I were in was at 12 on a clock and I couldn’t understand why we weren’t falling towards 6, and everything was rounded, sharp angles had been abolished. I watered all the plants in the house. I shaved half of my face and head and took crazy pictures, then I shaved the rest of it off and pretended I was an ape. I have a trove of weird photos. I spent over an hour wearing nothing but a t-shirt. I couldn’t find any pants I wanted to put on. For the record, it’s now 3:39am. I’m not sure where the past hour crept off to.
So. Back to the review. (long drawn out sigh) Let’s try to keep shit under control this time, ok?
Damn. I just realized I need to get high. I should probably drink some coffee, too.
Ok. It’s 4:55 in the morning now. I’m coughing like crazy. I think I’m hungry. Typing is a letter at a time, now. No longer luminescent orange muscle memory. Twice I’ve gone into the kitchen and looked back and forth between a bag of peanuts, and a jar of peanut butter. I haven’t chosen either. I did eat frozen peas until my face hurt from the cold though.
I wish I could show how damaged I am. I want to know what I would look like.
Enter… a nurse? Who is this?
That’s a cold sore??
Tests results are in and he’s clean.
“Necrotic STD”
Dude. Lying is bad.
That nurse needs to do some curls.
Grandma sets up a date? Wow.
Who the fuck is this? He is a bad guy. That is certain.
Debbie doesn’t look that good.
What the fuck??
Woman just ripped her own skin out…
Some good that security guy was.
“Just use a condom next time.” WTF??
Jesus lady, could that badge be any larger?
Dewey??
Yes. This is excruciating.
“The rabbit is gone now.”
That mustache… Dewey’s mustache.
Whoah! Dude, you got blood in the queso!!
That is a major party foul!
God Bless You. Although, it is too late. Far too late.
Oh, shit… pregnant lady ate the queso blood! SHIT!!
Allergies? Grab a drink? Are you out of your fucking MIND?
Where is lady cop going?
Coulda used some gun safety training, eh?
You don’t be looking at your phone at this point in the date, idiot.
Good joke.
Dude is losing his shit…
Is he gonna sneeze again?
The finger tattoo! A-HA! No idea what’s going on.
The lady cop is in a basement somewhere.
“I am the end”
She found… oh, there’s a zombie.
The dude’s picture…
Uh… Patient zero is whispering sweet nothing’s into Riley’s ear…
Lady cop just scalped and shot the zombie. In that order.
Riley… got a bad pukey.
Wow… not only does he look really bad, but he’s literally pissing blood. Nothing but it.
And he cleans the toilet? I’d put a fucking gun in my mouth, not cleaned up.
Oh, he’s got boils and lesions and he’s just really not doing well.
Gramma is a zombie now.
Oh, this should be good!!
Brenda? Well, that’s what your pregnant sister having sex looks like.
A guy named BJ. He’s the one-armed man.
Dalton has Dewey’s mustache.
“No. I’m saying he IS the disease.”
Meanwhile, Riley is driving around pulling out his teeth and restructuring his face.
I like Dalton.
Goddamn, does EVERYONE in this movie have a mustache?
“Any kind of whiskey.”
I… think he’s gonna do something REALLY drastic.
So… I once cut a tick out of my side under very similar circumstances. I ended up driving (drunk) to the ER, walked in with a bloody wad of paper towels held to my side, nurse asked what happened. I told her I was cutting a tick out of myself but I couldn’t get the final mandible. She looked at me and said “YOU did that to yourself?” Punchline of the joke is I ended up on one table in a two-table room. Other table had a guy with his pants around his knees and a tick sunk into his ass-cheek. We had things to talk about.
Pulling maggots out of his body, but they’re meal worms. I’m sorry, for the effort they’re putting into these scenes they should do better than mealworms.
And yes. Sew yourself back up.
I REALLY was afraid he was going to castrate himself.
“But we’re going to have a pop quiz on chapter 8, which was the reproductive systems of the bonobo monkey.” Ok. That may be the funniest line I’ve ever heard.
Oh, dude, you are being so fucking sketch!!
And yes, she is sick.
No, that doesn’t happen from sleeping with contacts in.
“Of course I trust you but you are acting like a fucking lunatic.”
Oh. Shit.
“It’s already ugly, bro.”
She just puked blood…
“We gotta find BJ.” Under different… you know… joke… somewhere in there…
Cops checking on gramma, and… well, they found her.
Growling.
Uh… cop got his nose bit off
And then, well, zombies got shot.
I’m not watching the “taking contacts out” scene. I can’t. I can only imaging how good they can do it.
(looking pointedly not at the screen except only in the most peripheral of vision. Yeah. She pulled her eye out. I almost lost an eye once, too, but not like that.
Last call to your sister with a pirate riding shotgun.
“Sure man, like a ride or something? To the emergency room?”
I have to say, that man knows a suave and debonair… what is that? A lounge-robe?
“Do I look like Ted Fucking Nugent? Don’t answer that.”
For those prices, I would buy everything. That is ridiculously low prices.
“I’m already fucking dead. And I’m taking him with me.”
Enter cops.
Looks like Riley is in for his last trip.
Whoah- both tied down to gurneys. Can’t say that’s a bad idea tho.
Enter hazmats, body bags… and she reanimates.
A-ha! Enter villain!
427. That’s a good number.
The cop gets pulled away at exactly that moment.
Oh, shit! Is the cop sick?
What the fuck??
Dude is wearing a bomb.
“Everything will be fine. Eventually.”
Oh. Well done. That was proper psycho.
That’s a winning move. Puke black goo all over someone’s face.
“I’m gonna fucking murder you.”
“Not in this lifetime.”
Brent? That’s his name?
Riley just ripped BJ’s neck out.
Zombie pregnant didn’t need to be that… wow.
Oh!! ABADDON is a different guy than BJ!!
————End Transmission——————–
Introduction
Introduction
I just finished a shit-ton of WordPress homework, and it’s 1:30 in the morning and the wife is ½ way through the shit she’s got to have done by her 7am class. I haven’t brought up any math regarding sleep at all, I feel dumb and guilty enough for suggesting we watch a movie first.
Flashback. The like, 2021 version. Not the classic Flashback, with Sutherland and Dennis Fucking Hopper from 1990. So that was a complete waste of time. I mean, it wasn’t- at one point I *did* say “This may be my favorite movie ever.” but then again… well… I honestly can’t remember if I’d eaten any mushrooms at that point.
See, I’ve eaten 2 grams twice tonight, at… well, I was going to say “Different times” but then again, I’m still… suffering the effects, we’ll call it. And then wink a lot. I read a news article that someone has designed a fucking exploding Virtual Reality headset. Like, you die in the game, and no less than three charges (which look a lot like they could be .410 shotgun shells) get fired off into your skull. Poof.
How fucking beautifully savagely suicidal is that? To make things even more interesting, the guy who made it said he’s gonna make ones that have “can’t take off” mechanisms, which… I can’t imagine anyone intentionally strapping that on. I’m all for a truly high-stakes duel, but I want to be able to take the headset off when I want to piss, you know?
What else are my options? Pissing in the corner of my room? What happens when the WIFI goes down? Not to even begin pointing out all the negatives associated with black hat hackers. They can kill you now. Why would you do that? It’s like the options of “Well, I can choose to live with ghosts being either able to kill me or not.” Who the hell would choose “ghosts can kill me”?
I mean, I suppose, as someone who I think it was two days ago wrote something about how I take drugs to make my own life difficult because of the futility of it all and the endless cycle of success-leads-to-more-work… Uh… I’m just doing the same thing, but in slow motion. I know this. I’ve heard of a death by a thousand papercuts, but I feel that Mustaine said it better about not being able to give back the thousand days lost.
That’s three years. How many segments of your life- in three-year chunks- did you waste? From when to when? I’d say I’ve got… 4 blocks of three years that I wasted? I mean, if I can’t remember them, bloody well wasted, right? But then, I’ve got the tattoos and arthritis and scars and can’t look myself in the mirror.
I suppose I’m just the analog version of the detonating VR helmet, suffering the decay from attrition instead of compaction, but lost all the same. So, along with this lunatic genius creating a VR helmet that can kill it’s user- no… not CAN kill it’s user, but is designed to kill it’s user… as well as a mechanism to ensure it can’t be removed… Add to this idiocy an article about how Russians are planning on testing powered exoskeletons in the Ukraine…
We are so fucking close to Skynet that I can taste the aluminum ash. I also keep flinching away from bugs on either side of me on the table, although I know those are coffee spills. I grew up playing Axis and Allies. Bug-flinches aside, I feel like I can see how close we are to Bladerunner, it’s just never going to get that glossy. Humans are dirty.
We make tombs to cleanliness, and then debase and burn them the first chance we get. We preach anti-science through machines made possible by science. Like Beck sang, we’re at the point where you can’t believe everything that you breathe, Delta-9 is natural and Delta-8 is synthesized? Do I have them backwards? Do I have any idea what I’m talking about?
I can’t stop fidgeting with my nose; I’m amped up like I’ve done cocaine. Did a Word Search of Cocaine and the Top Result reads “Cocaine is used by health care professionals to temporarily numb the lining of the mouth, nose, and throat before certain medical procedures.” Oh. Yeah.
Wow. How quickly we find ourselves wandering off onto FB Market and Ebay and whatnot searching for van parts. Honestly, not even sure what I need, not even sure what I got, but I wanna buy the answer to my problem, dammit! Sound so much easier than actually figuring it out.
11/9/2022
There’s little that The Ramones cannot improve. I’m trying to remember how many days it’s been since I ate any mushrooms. The answer is either 1 or 2, or some increment between or to the right of such. It’s enough that I want to eat some- pretty sure I’d get off- but also want to not, simply for when I do.
Although, the universe serving up EMF’s Children is an international call for rave drugs if I ever heard of one. “The international language!” or whatever it is from 2 Dollars. The music has me thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve taken any kind of recreational stimulant.
I’m a cheeseburger before steak kinda guy, and I might be a PCP before Cocaine kinda guy. (Ketamine? Pffft. If I’m taking horse meds, it’ll be horse steroids. What do I look like? An idiot?) However, I need to try more PCP before I can honestly make that judgement. They’re both great for sex.
I think PCP wins it in that department, but there are two kind of people out there- those who are bothered when their sexual partner’s head begins becoming triangle shaped, and those that aren’t. I need you to tell me what kind of person you are before I allow you to pass go.
I need to buy a new guitar amplifier. I need to wait for my old dog to pass before I bring that kinda chaos back into my life. She doesn’t like loud noises. My 200 watts of Marshall Goodness is her next-generation vacuum cleaner.
I think I know what I’m going to watch tonight, and being prepared has me feeling pretty good about things. Contracted: Phase 2. “A sexually transmitted virus is ravaging LA and turning lovers into flesh-eating zombies and one man is in a race against time to stop it.” I think the thing that has my toes wriggling about this one is that I’ve seen the first one, and it’s… it’s really good in a very intense way.
I just checked, no, I have not reviewed it yet. I must have watched it… years ago. I’m trying to remember where I was living when I watched the first one. I really can’t place it. But I do remember it being ridiculously gory (No, you can’t have zombie STD’s without it) and well paced. Gah. Now I’m not sure if I want to review it.
I feel like I’m in the mood for stupid and automatic weapons and whatnot. Maybe I’ll just do this review and then play some videogames? Yeah. Not sure about how I feel about nudging that addiction again. They say perfection is the enemy of good. I should get that tattooed on my hand so I never forget it. I should get it misspelled, too, to really drive the point home.
I feel compelled to do this movie though, since I already wrote about it. It has me thinking of a younger me, during a different part of my life, and the very first ingrown hair I ever got in my pubic area, and how I absolutely shit-house freaked out until the frighteningly painful thing popped the next day or so and I had a 3 inch scrotal hair wound as tight as a clock-spring in the infected pore.
The really unfortunate part is that I had just had sex with my first stripper the night before it showed up, so… yeah. I freaked my shit out. Oh- since we’re wandering down embarrassing sexually related panic attack way, let’s not forget to include the world’s most awkward AIDs test, where I went with a group of friends in college to all get them since one of the girls really wanted to get tested and didn’t want to go alone.
I have no idea if things have sped up in the test turn around world at all, but then in the 90’s, we all went in on day 1 and then all came back on day 2 or 3 or something to get our results, which were told to us 1:1 in a little cubby-sized room at the clinic where we’d gotten tested.
The night we all went back to get our results, I had rolled a special blunt– I think it had a hash snake in it, or it was otherwise super-charged, and before we rolled out for the night, I’d mentioned to the girl I was seeing that “After we all get our results, let’s come back here and smoke this and chill and watch a movie…” you know. College seduction. And she’d said yes, and I was stoked.
I was gonna get this girl alone up in the pad, get some smooth hazz flute playing… “Yanni’s in the wind…”. I had seduction in mind. On the way to go get AIDs test results. In hindsight, I realize now at this moment of writing this that that was weird timing. Cluster-B-Sorry!! But anyway- I have plans for the evening, and we roll out to get our results, and when we get there we all have to break off individually and go into the little cubby…
We all sort of got out at the same time, and ended up in the car headed back before anyone said anything about the results- it was obvious that none of us were sobbing hysterically, so I felt fine that everyone had gotten clean results, and once we got back to campus the girl and I were going to dip out and…
Then someone asked the girl who had initiated this whole thing by asking us to come get tested with her for support- someone asks her about her test and she yells something like “It’s all good, Bitches, now let’s go get wasted at ___________” and next thing I know, the girl I thought I had later plans with yells a “HELL YEAH” and high-fives her, and then looks directly at me and says “How was your test, J______?” and I’m sitting there looking at her, watching my plans for the evening shatter through the car, unhappy amongst the celebrations- and my friend reads this unhappiness as me being upset because I’d just found out that I had AIDs.
Can you imagine the fucking conversation that we had to have for me to convince her that I wasn’t infected with anything, rather, I was sad that she’d bailed on the plans we had. Unfortunately, with my pride, it took about 3 hours of drinking for me to get up the nerve to explain this to her, so for those 3 hours everyone was whispers and eggshells around me- more than normal, and that’s a lot more than normal.
The punchline? She had totally forgotten that we’d made anything resembling plans, and told me that what she remembered was me saying were going to party when we’d gotten our results. I mean, yeah, kinda… but I meant WE in a much more exclusive sense, and PARTY in a whole different rating schema than she was using.
Oh well. Shall I take this exercise further and talk yet more about potential penis problems? Since alliteration is all the rage? I once felt a hard bump in the skin of my penis that I never had noticed before. Didn’t hurt at all, but after a couple decades with a penis, you get pretty aware of it’s contours and whatnot.
The phase “Know it like the back of my hand” is actually a much-much sanitized version of the original Norse saying, which to be properly convincing, needed to be accompanied by a kilt-slapping while spoken; but yeah, my penis had a bump on it. Hmm. I thought. Didn’t hurt, wasn’t discolored, I looked through all the Googles and couldn’t find anything resembling it.
So I called a doc, made an appointment, and on the correct day, I went in and pulled down my pants. “I have a bump here on my penis.” I showed him. He put on gloves. He poked it, squeezed it, wanted to know if it hurt at all. “Only my pride, doc.”
He told me that short of pulling out a scalpel and diving in, he was stumped. No, I replied, that will not be necessary at this moment. He then offered to stick a needle into it, instead, to draw fluid to send to the lab. Sure, I’ve had weirder shit pierced. (Maybe, that’s a very subjective topic)
Doc pulls out a needle and syringe, holds my penis in what could only be described as a comfortable vice of a grip, and sticks the needle in. Fiddles the plunger around. Nothing happens. Withdraws the needle, asks me if that hurt. Told the truth, which was with his hand squeezing everything, that prick pin prick went unnoticed.
He says he wasn’t able to extract anything, do I want to try again? Sure! Swing and another miss. I took the walk at that point. He told me to continue washing myself- as if an doctor would suggest otherwise (microbiomies, we’re a weird bunch, let’s just play nice with everyone else) and to let him know if any pain develops.
A couple days later, I’ve been for a long run, I take a long, hot shower, I get out and I’m toweling myself off. “Hmm.” I think, grabbing the head of my penis and twisting it around to look at the bump-ridge area. As I do, I notice what looks like a slight slit in the skin there- under the head; without thinking about it, I dig a thumbnail into the opposite side of the bump- and out pops a rice sized grain of sebum.
And suddenly, my penis doesn’t have a weird bump in it any longer.
Ok. Just went up to give the mushrooms a fanning before starting the review, and I found one in a tub that had gone far past dropping it’s spores- it looked like a big Dr. Suess tree, or rather, a small Dr. Suess tree.
But- it was a healthy, fully grown mushroom, and I refuse to waste. So I ate. Along with another 2 grams of Mad Hatter Space Popcorn and ½ gram of Little Brown Mushroom, since, you know… company. Once again, I’m surfing, and once again, it’s surging, and I can feel the tendrils of psilocin creeping into my brain.
Didn’t really intend to go this route tonight, but… here I am. I can’t tell if I’m having hot or cold flashes, but I took off my hoodie and the cold air feels wonderful on my uncovered T-shirt arms. I got my wife’s laptop here for viewing with Amazon open, and I can’t help but notice that these two movies were not directed by the same person. Interesting. I can’t wait to forget I’ve reviewed this sequel so I finally get around to reviewing the original.