Toilets and Unicorns

I had the most amazing conversation with my friend, Red, two nights ago. It lasted for about an hour and we covered a range of topics from fancy, futuristic toilets to the evolution of Narwhals. I mean, how could it be bad with the key elements of life questioned?

The futuristic toilet thing may not be entirely suitable to talk about here, on a personal blog that I use to write about my life (especially the writing aspect of it), but just know—Red will be paten this epic toilet that I truly hope exists in the future and, most importantly, in the fancy bathroom of my castle-mansion where Batman and I will reside.

But, onto more appropriate matters—my silver unicorn hair. No, it is not gray. And it’s not white either. It’s silver unicorn, and they’re sprouting up sporadically across my scalp. Not in huge waves or anything—God, no—but they’re there, sparkling strands of once-brown and causing Batman to remind me of my cougar status. Yeah, because seven months younger is really robbing that cradle. *Rolls eyes*

I mentioned this invasion of silver unicorn hair to Red who agreed that I was climbing that mountain of life when, unexpectedly (and at the same time not) the conversation morphed into the existence/disappearance of unicorns. Where are they? Where have they all gone? If aliens and mermaids and Bigfoot exists, why not unicorns? Voldemort had to survive off something, right? Well, much like a professor, Red dove into the surprisingly animated explanation of how we—people—drove unicorns from the land millions of years ago in pursuit of their magical horn power. He said they fled to the sea where, over time, they transformed into the modern day Narwhals.

FAIL.

On the Narwhals, not the unicorns. They kind of went a little backwards there, didn’t they? Which gave birth to another depressing question. If Narwhals come from unicorns, and my brown hair is now turning silver, does that mean I’m devolving? I already have trouble opening doors and gates and locks and anything that should be pretty easy—ask Batman—so am I just going backwards at this point? Will I not be able to turn on the shower soon to wash these gorgeous, glistening locks? That’s depressing. Just like the Narwhales, which, by the way, I was pronouncing wrong. According to Batman. It’s Nar-wall, not Nar-whale he corrected me, oh, about a THOUSAND times. Does it matter? Yes it does, because he HAS to be right. And then, to prove himself further, he proceeded to research that possums are really spelled opossums, at which point I looked out the window to the pretty houses passing by.

I wish I could tell you more about these toilets. But Red needs to paten their awesomeness first. And, just so you know, we don’t just discuss toilets and unicorns. We talk about adult topics too. Like healthcare. I suggested that every time the common cold strikes, they (some government official) should deliver Dayquil and Nightquil to your door completely paid for. Because that would rock. I would tip the delivery guy—it would be rude not to—but how cool would that be? And it would create more delivery jobs and stuff. But honestly, I just don’t want to drive to the grocery store when I’m sick and shell out the fifteen bucks because I’m significantly underwealthy. Sure, I should keep my medicine cabinet stocked to which I say, please refer to the previous post.

But… yeah… that pretty much concluded our anything-near mature topic. After that, I think the conversation steered back to our futures as ghosts and the type of scare tactics we’d use. Ready for this? ONLY when that special someone is on the shitter. Think about it… you’re doing your business, pushing as normal when suddenly BAM! Something scares the living SHIT out of you! Except not literally, because you clench.  And it happens over and over and over again. What an incredibly epic shit that would be.

And it would be all because of us. 🙂

Ah, it’s good to catch up with old friends.

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