What if someone got bitten by a vampire, but didn’t realize it. So then they go around and keep misidentifying all the symptoms, like
“Dude, you haven’t gone outside in a while.”
“Yeah, last time I went out I got this wicked sunburn.”
“Are you still up?”
“Yeah, I started bing watching this show on Netflix.”
“Dude, I’m seriously craving something right now.”
“I dunno. Pizza rolls?”)
Hey there. Andy Carter. Freelance programmer. Nerd blogger. But you knew that. That is, if you’re one of the few who actually reads these ramblings.
I’m still looking for that asshole who slipped me something at Juliana’s kegger/barbecue. Would you believe nobody got photographs? Like, a million people glued to their phones and doing Snapchats and that kind of fuckshit… and not one of them caught the asshole who figured out a way to get past my guard.
He was a slick sunofabitch, I can tell you that. It’s bastards like him that make me put on the ole cockblocker 9000. And you all told me that it was stupid to make my own chastity belt.
Ha! Joke’s on you. It worked, so ner.
Anyway, ever since then I’ve had some weird kinda bug. Bastard managed to give me something.
It’s been four weeks since I woke up on Juliana’s porch swing with a massive pain in my neck. Weird stuff has been happening.
I get this bizarre craving for rare meat. Like super-rare. You ever heard of Blue Steak? Where they bless a hunk of dead cow with a kiss to the grille and serve it like that?
Yeah. THAT rare.
I am sorry. This is like an overwhelming craving. Spinach doesn’t cut it. I can’t be vegan any more.
At least it’s still raw food, right? It’s gotta be some kind of healthy.
And on that note - to the ‘just get some sun’ team: I literally can’t. Last time I stepped out into daylight? I went out to fetch my mail. Came back inside with the kind of sunburns that make people sick. I think I might be allergic to sunshine, now.
Yeah. It’s a thing.
Moonlight is okay. It’s diffuse. It doesn’t hurt. And taking midnight strolls is not exactly safe for a gal unless I have the sense of mind to don the cockblocker 9000 and carry my best friend - the Louisville Slugger with extra barbed wire wrapped around it.
It’s amazing how few people fuck with me when I have Louis by my side.
I have to avoid the cops, though. They tend to frown on Louis.
I’ve been getting a little more… aggressive, lately. Like I want someone to fuck with me. The idea of smashing Louis into some douchebag’s face is… well… it’s a kind of fantasy that rarely leaves my thoughts.
And I swear I’m hallucinating. I can’t see my face in mirrors, any more. I thought that was something that only happened in dreams. Bernie, the nice lady who delivers my shopping, came by and confirmed that I wasn’t dreaming. She also said she couldn’t see my reflection, either. She helped me with that video I put up on Youtube.
That one won me five hundred off of Real Or Fake. Yay.
And - I used to love anything garlic. Now even the faintest whiff of Aoli makes me want to run and puke. I’ve been torn from my favourite condiment.
Bernie keeps telling me it’s for the best. That I smell nicer, now.
I have no idea how to tell her, but… she’s started to smell delicious. Like I want to bite her neck… Actually bite it.
Something weird is going on. It’s that asshole’s fault, I know it.
Can anyone help with this? Every time I google the symptoms, I get a billion links to Twilight fanfic. Gross.