Crabs, Alcohol, Cornfields, Oh My!

What's up, PunderStruck fans! I come bearing good tidings in the form of some comics that you hate, yet somehow secretly love (You know you do), but before we get into all that stuff, it's time for my semi-consistent Essay of The Week. Each week (more or less), I'll waste 2 minutes of your time arguing about something that irks or confuses me. Than you'll wonder why you read my blog at all (I can't answer that). Anyway, read on for my useless rant of the week:

I have a problem. My eyes are sweating when I eat mints. Okay, after writing that, I realize how weird and moronic that sounds. What I meant to say was, my eyes get watery when I eat mints. It all started a few days ago. I remember it like it was... a few days ago. Cue ripply dream sequence.

Anyhow, don't ask me why, but I only eat fruit-flavored mints. I have no clue why. Maybe my tongue wants to feel like I'm vacationing in Cancun. Or maybe I'm just insane. You make the call. Bottom line is, I pretty much only eat fruity mints. But then I ran out of fruit flavored mints. So I frantically searched for any mints. That was when I found some Candy Cane mints I had gotten from Christmas. So I thought to myself, "I ain't gonna get more mints. I'll eat these ones". Because I'm a daredevil. Well I did, and immediately my eyes were on fire. It was like wearing a sauna suit. On the fourth of July. Doing an Ab-workout. next to a campfire.

Anyway, my eyes started watering like crazy. I don't know if it's just the fact that my eyes are well-hydrated, or it was the mints, but it really stung at first. But I kept sucking the mint. And eventually, my vacationing taste buds learned to like it. Mind over matter, people.

Well, I've been talking for much too long already, so let me put the last nail on the coffin with some cartoons with commentary:

This man should be more worried about his four fingers that are bending backwards.

The guy on the bottom right corner seems to be looking at the guy on the bottom left, not Gary. It's a bit odd. Though I'll admit, that guys tongue is just as terrifying as Gary's so-called samurai skills.

My Bourbon glasses look like juice boxes. And that's the kind of profound wisdom that you get by reading these posts.

Whew! That was a typing workout. And as such, instead of saying goodbye, I'll leave you with this:

The old man whispers, but the towel dries it toward his mother.

Take that as you will.

Pasta la vista, party people!