Archive for the Sex Category

zombies are losers…

Posted in Random Thoughts, Sex, Things that peeve me on February 8, 2011 by fromthenuthousewithlove

If I met a zombie, I wouldn’t shake it’s hand. I say “it” because I’m not entirely sure on whether or not zombie’s believe in male or female. I mean I know that they were human at one point, but I’m not sure if after their transformation it still counts. They are decaying humans, which means their bodies along with the parts slowly disintigrate. So that means sex is not even  in the equation for them. I don’t even think they know what sex is anymore. You can’t even get an answer out of them because they no longer have the ability to speak, except for one word “Brains” (this is just an assumption based on the movie’s I’ve seen about them, which quite frankly I don’t understand why they bother eating them if you don’t even have a stomach to digest it!) so you can’t even ask them, and if sex is no longer in the equation then are gender’s an issue? You know what? NO! because you can’t even get a conversation out of them! Now some of you are probably thinking, who needs conversation? To that I say, we all need something, even a confirmation! you can’t even get that out of them. Which means if you did manage to sex a zombie, (although it’s part would probably just fall off during the procedure) he’d probably try to charge you with rape. It wouldn’t succeed because they can’t talk, and who in the world would they get to represent them in court? Not because they are zombie’s, but because what lawyer is going to want to take on a case where their client cannot communicate with them in any way to help them win the case and where would they get the money to pay for a lawyer anyway? They can’t even work off their debt because they are consumed with one thing, and it’s not even beneficial to them at this point.
I can’t even tell them how much they piss me off because they can’t hear anything (which in turn pisses me off even more). Actually that’s a lie, they have selective hearing. They hear the book you accidentally drop while you are trying to evade them, but they can’t hear you ask them a question or say “What’s up?, how’s your day?”.  You come here with your torn clothes, your broken limbs, you dirty and destroy everything you touch, or at least you pretend to because everything you touch seems to be fairly easy to destroyed (selective touching as well perhaps?) and then you have the nerve to want to eat MY brain? Get over yourselves.  Then people wonder why I wouldn’t shake their hand? They don’t deserve me to shake their hand!