Messages from a Martian?

I’ve been down and out with a cold the past few days and although there’s a part of me that relishes the thought of laying around, sloughing off chores and duties, there’s another part of me that agonizes over being lazy, useless and ANNOYED that I’m wasting time by not getting anything done.

After horking up a ginormous ball of phlegm and blood yesterday I started to feel a bit more perky. And afterward, taking a four hour nap and hopping myself up on NyQuil, my brain waves decided to try and reinstate (realign?) themselves through a fog of medicinal inebriation.

I wanted to write, but was afraid whatever I had to say wouldn’t make sense. How could I formulate and coherently type out a romantic scene when I looked and felt anything other than sexy? I wanted to blog, but my NyQuil induced thoughts had traversed to a dark side no one need be witness to. I suppose if I ever want to write horror I now know the gateway portal to how my imagination can cross over – the threshold is simply thirty milligrams of mystical green syrup.

So I had logged on to my website just to see if I could kick my brain in gear when I saw several really weird messages left on my blog. The sane part of me knew it was all spam, but the NyQuil part of my mind was like, “No! These are REAL! They mean something! I must decode them and respond. Maybe it’s aliens. Maybe Zing Zong and his friends are trying to communicate a story to me and I should write their biographies.”

So below are the messages. And I’m glad I didn’t answer them yesterday. Or blog. Or write in any public capacity whatsoever.

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WP-Admin/ Edit Comments/ ChellyBosworth.com…

“You know thus significantly with regards to this subject, made me individually consider it from numerous boob angles.”

“It’s like men and women don’t seem to be fascinated unless it is something to accomplish with Girl Gaga!”

“Your personal stuff’s nice. Always care for it.”

“You annoy Amy as she thinks that his behavior is not gentlemanly. Does the catering company seem polite and reliable?”

“All successful traders have a solid plan by which to run their group. This will solidify cause why the old behavior must be replaced with sodomy.”

“The heart beats frantically along with the voice starts trembling. And the legs cry out for pants.”

“What I do not realize is in fact is how you agree to no longer be more well-preferred than you may be right now. You’re so intelligent but your political views are mismanaged and smell of goat.”

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I’m still a bit fuzzy-headed and using so much Kleenex I’ve just decided to carry around an entire toilet paper roll instead, but at least I’m back at the laptop. And I’m still wondering about those spammy messages… WHAT IF THEY’RE FROM BOB THE VIKING?!!?

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