Shudder.

Last night I woke up at around 5am frightened out of my mind because I truly believed that there was a monster in the room that was millimeters, and milliseconds, away from devouring my left foot. It took a while for me to wake up, too. Like, almost two whole seconds, which can feel like forever when a hungry monster you can barely make out in the darkness is about to consume your foot.

Don’t laugh, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I was in that half-awake, half-dreaming state that feels like you’re drowning as you struggle and fight for full consciousness knowing all the while that it’s going to eat you if you don’t wake up! You can see the room you’re in because your eyes are sorta-kinda open, but because you’re also still sleeping all the shadows move and gibber like hungry demons.

Especially the moving shadow right next to your foot.

As I bolted up from my slumber and feverishly searched the room for traces of the foot eating beast, I came to the slow realization that I had been dreaming and that there was, of course, no monster in my room. Looking down I sighed in relief as I discovered that the reason for my dreamy fear was nothing more than my lovely spouse’s penchant for hogging the blankets which had left my foot exposed to the drafty elements of the room.

See? A logical explanation for everything, right?

Of course, there was nothing logical about my actions as I quickly yanked the blankets away from my sleeping wife, carefully covered every piece of exposed flesh on my body, up to and including my neck, and proceeded to lay there wide awake and in the dark for the next hour searching the shadows for signs of movement. Because we all know that the dreaded monsters under the bed cannot get you if you’re under the covers. The covers are their kryptonite; they can’t eat you as long as you make sure you’re completely covered. But they’re always hungry, they’re always watching for an opening. And they’re patient. Very, very patient.

Constant vigilance, my friends. Constant vigilance.

5:18am
Wake up to use bathroom. Since I’m up anyway, check mailbox for package from Amazon containing Halo 2. Curse mail carriers everywhere for not making midnight deliveries. Sheepishly crawl back to apartment when nosy neighbor sees me crying on the hallway floor in my Cuddle Bear pajamas.

6:12am
Consider checking mailbox again, “just to make sure”.

7:21am
Told by HoBiscuit that if I don’t stop humming the Halo theme song and let her sleep she’s going to shove a REAL rocket launcher in my anus. Sideways. And then fire it.

7:32am
New discovery; rocket launchers HURT.

9:43am
While in shower I thought I heard the mail carrier’s truck. Ran downstairs wearing nothing but a towel and wetness only to discover that it was a school bus filled with teenage girls and not the mail truck. Needless to say, no Halo 2, but I did rediscover the joys of high school ridicule. Yay.

10:10am
Found a comfortable seat at the window overlooking the street and waited for the mail truck to bring me my Halo 2.

10:12am
No Halo 2.

10:27am
Still no Halo 2.

10:41am
Still waiting.

10:43am
Why am I still Halo 2-less?

10:51am
Guess what? That’s right! No Halo 2.

11:00am
I give up. Apparently I will not be getting my Halo 2 today. Life can be so cruel. Maybe I need to reevaluate my life? Maybe I shouldn’t be so obsessed with what really is only a stupid game. Yeah! Who needs Halo 2, anyway? I mean, it’s not the end of the world if I don’t get my copy of the game this week, right? I can certainly go a week or two without… OMG! I think that’s the mail truck! Halo 2 might be in there! Gaming bliss and everlasting happiness here I come! YEE-HA!

11:13am
Stupid, empty-handed, Halo 2-less mail carrier. I fart on you.

11:25am
I wonder what I’ll do tomorrow?

It’s 2am and I’m doing my laundry.

A’yep, (spit) I’m one hot-to-trot, sexy, stud-muffin of a Geek, ain’t I? Folding my unmentionables while most of the rest o’ the world is all tuckered out and asleep in their jammies. Oh yeah, I can tell all’s yawl want me. I just know all you ladies are licking your monitors right now, wishing it were an ice-cold Geeksicle made from 100% GeekMan juice, but it ain’t! It’s just a monitor and you’ll all just have to suffer without me ‘cause I’m busy doing MAN’S work, folding these here blue jeans and pairing up these foot condoms so’s I don’t wind up putting on two lefties and making my poor right foot feel all outta-whack all’s the day long. That’s why I can’t spare no time today for the likes o’ you sex-hungered, Geek worshipping, ladies of leisure, no-how.

But I sure wish I could! Yee-HA!

…

Oy, my life is so fricking sad…

I have TV! I love TV! I hate TV!

Oh, sweet Television, how I have missed you so. Day’s, weeks and yes, even months have passed since the last time I was able to bask in the glow of your illuminating presence. I know you felt neglected, covered by that thin plastic condom and shoved in a corner for lo, these last two months, un-watched and unloved. You waited patiently for me to return to you, knowing full well that I would weaken and find some lame excuse to put down my books, step away from my computer and come back to you.

You irresistible, horrible, wonderful Television, you.

14 hours I spent in front of you yesterday, 14 hours of blissful ignorance and brain-sapping stupidity as you made my eyes glaze over and my brain stop functioning. 14 hours of watching horrible movies that I would normally go to great lengths to avoid, movies like Spy Kids 3, Bad Boys 2 and the ultimate death-knell for all rational thought; Underworld.

Thank the heavens that Battlefield Earth wasn’t on or I might have died.

Normally, movies like those would cause me to gouge out my own eyes with chopsticks and cauterize the wounds with mixture of sea salt & battery acid, but I was weak from lack of exposure and for 14 hours you held me captive, unable to look away from your mesmerizing light. You have stolen 14 hours of my life and not only am I so enthralled by you that I don’t mind the loss, but I cannot wait to return to your embrace tonight and give you more.

Oh beautiful Television, I love to hate you ever so much!

Unpacking

Six weeks of living out of filthy, plastic covered cardboard boxes is about all I can take before the bodies start to pile up. Right now we’re doing laundry once a week because all we have handy is one week’s worth of clothing. Just yesterday, as I rode the train, two people put spare change into my cup of hot chocolate and a homeless bum took pity on me and gave me directions to a shelter. Funny thing, the soup was really good.

 

Cooking

Never thought I’d miss making a mess on the stove and washing dishes, but by golly, I do. Every time I think about how wonderful a home cooked dinner would be I just have to glance over at the giant pile of rubbish that was once a kitchen and all my hopes and dreams come crashing down around me. Sometimes, when I’m home alone, I even ‘play chef’ by walking around the “kitchen” and pretending to cook. I even make my own chopping and sizzling sound effects. BAM!

 

Furniture

We’ve sold just about all the big furniture items we used to own and now we don’t have a chair to sit on, a table to eat at or even a TV to watch. Which brings me to…

 

Television

We haven’t watched TV at home since the week before we moved into this apartment. I’ve missed the final weeks of The Amazing Race, the whole fricking football pre-season and the opening three weeks of football. Some nights we get withdrawal so bad we actually wander the streets and spy on other people in their homes as they sit on their couches and watch TV. Hey, here’s and interesting tidbit you might not be aware of. Did you know that entire neighborhoods could get a restraining order against someone? Well, now you know.

Tomorrow there will be pictures for you. Please, be gentile with your mockery.

OK, this one’s for the men out there.

Let’s say you go to the bathroom to do your business and when you’re done you wipe yourself really, really well. So well in fact, that the next time you go to the bathroom, which just happens to be after a particularly spicy dinner of nuclear tacos and jalapeño poppers, you notice that there is a piece of toilet paper fuzz that has attached itself to your nether-regions in such a way that you simply cannot take care of business without first removing said piece of TP fuzz. Let us also hypothesize that this particular piece of TP fuzz is holding on to every damn hair on your butt as if its very life depended on it.

And, just for giggles, let’s say you REALLY need to poo.

Now, keeping in mind that this has of course never happened to me, I find myself, for purely scientific reasons of course, interested in the actual process one might use to remove this hypothetical anal invader with as little pain as possible before ones sphincter exploded due to pressure buildup. Think about it. Perhaps due to your overwhelming desire to be thorough in your cleaning duties during your first visit to the ‘office’ you so vigorously wiped yourself that this theoretical butt gremlin actually became fused to the hair down there. Yanking it out has already proven to be too painful and you now believe that nothing short of the Jaws of Life will ever clear the way for you to freely poo again. So, hypothetically speaking guys, what exactly would you do to clear the way?

And please, type fast. There’s somewhere I really need to be right now…

Dear Valued Readership,

It has come to our attention that this site has yet to be updated with fresh content today. Please be assured that we at The Mighty Geek are diligent in our efforts to continually entertain you, our valued readership, and are ever on the look-out for new and humorous methods of brightening your day. Tonight, you can breathe a sigh of relief, sleeping sound and safe with the knowledge that those responsible for the sorry lack of content today have not only been sacked, but have been beaten with the Switch Of Perpetual Obedience and tossed out of our office window like a discarded wad of tissue paper. Rest assured they shall never fail in their duties to entertain you again.

For they are now deceased.

As we are now in the unfortunate position of needing to hire an entirely new staff, we beg your indulgence until the morrow when we shall once again entertain you with yet another meaningless story of GeekMan’s pathetic life using humor and wit to illustrate how much better off you are than he is in all things. Thank you and good night.

The Management