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Showing posts from June, 2014

DeathBecomesMe on the Facebook

Come and hangout on my bitchin' new fb page:

https://www.facebook.com/Ericisdeadinside

Khaki sickness

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Is there anything more nausea inducing than khaki pants? I feel such a morbid disdain for their vapid, muted earth-toned cotton-blended fibers. Paired with the uberly© bland Polo shirt, they create the uniform of oppressed conformity.

Men need to rise up and flex some of their atrophying business casual muscles. Please, for the love of Mike, wear cargo pants.

DBM Old mattress

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Yes! I finally found the old mattress somewhere. But, sadly, my hopes and dreams weren't under it.

How to survive scary naked dolls coming to life and trying to kill you

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When I was a young lad, a couple of my older brothers, lets call them Al and Chris, made a nice little sadistic hobby out of trying to scare me. This was the era of The Exorcist, The Amityville Horror and The Omen, three of my favs. Even catching a glimpse of any of them on TV would send me into cardiac arrest. So as you all can imagine, the Two Brothers Grimm would invent elaborate scare-fests for me.

I grew up in that delusional Christian mode of thinking, i.e., Satan is real and you'll burn in Hell for doing bad things. Keeping this in mind, any movie or story that had some sort of demonic being as the central antagonist, scared the living shit out of me. 
One of the more heinous tricks played on me involved a certain doll of my sister's. This doll was one of those walking-types, if you held its hands, it would walk with you. It stood about three feet in height. My sister, let's call her Jen, had long since abandoned the doll and it was relegated to living a l…

My weird family

Check out my new Medium collection:


My weird family

RIP Benji

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Speedos and hairspray

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A very long time ago, in a mystical land filled with big hair, sluts and spritz, lived an awesome high school kid named Eric. One of Eric's main goals in life was to have massive and well designed hair. In his quest for this daily goal, one horrible thing would always get in the way. Gym class. Gym, the bane of a student's high school life. 
As everyone knows, the population of gym teachers are sadistic malcontents, whose only joy in life is to torture hapless students. It's also a known fact that gym teachers aren't the sharpest hammers in the tool belt. It's no surprise that the lesson plans in gym were less than brilliant. For example, the swimming section consisted of titles like, "Make the kids do laps until they puke."
Since I grew up with a pool at home, swimming per se wasn't an issue. If I was your average bowl-haircut dork, fine. Let me swim until I die, master. But I wasn't. The crafting of my hair in the morning bordered on D-Day inva…