Why the Unicorn Frappuccino is Voldemort’s Doing

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So I tried the unicorn frappuccino drink from Starbucks today. Below is the link that’ll show you the video review with my daughter laughing at me in the background.

What’s not in the video is that by the time I got to the bottom, it tasted like curdled milk. Seriously. Which makes me think that Lord Voldemort is behind this little craze. The baristas will tell you that the top is sprinkled with unicorn dust, whatever that is.

But in order to get unicorn dust, you must capture a unicorn. And to capture a unicorn, you’ll inevitably draw blood. (The credit for this idea goes to my wife, by the way.) So according to Harry Potter lore, something pure and defenseless has been slain to make your unicorn frappuccino.

Which also means that you will have a half-life, or a cursed life, from the moment that blood touches your lips.

What’s not in the video below is this horrible realization. What IS in the video is the beginning of my cursed life. And shockingly, my daughter knew enough not to drink any even when I offered it to her. She’s too innocent, too pure. She chose wisely.

CLICK HERE TO WATCH THE VIDEO

Which Dunder Mifflin Employees Would Survive the Walking Dead?

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Being a huge fan of The Office and The Walking Dead, I not only found this hilarious, but totally believable. This article spells out what would happen to our beloved Office characters if they found themselves in a Walking Dead scenario. Some would survive (like Dwight, obviously), and many would come to untimely deaths (Meredith’s is pretty disturbing, but  completely believable).

Anyway, check this out. It’ll get you through the second half of hump day with a smile.

Click here to read the article. 

 

Worst Possible Star Wars IX Titles

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So I’m just going to leave this right here for everybody. I promise you’ll get a kick out of this. Also, what #terribletitle would you add? Tweet it to @electricbeacher

Worst Possible Star Wars IX Titles

When It’s Stupid to Play with Your Kids

Life is like a casino. You gamblers know what I mean. You win some, you lose some. But you lose A LOT! And you win just enough to keep going.

Life’s pattern:

Good day. Okay day. Bad day. Bad day. Good day. Bad day. Bad daybaddaybaddaybadday. Bad day.

At this point you want to take yourself out, but before you do make that jump…

MY GOD I FOUND A QUARTER! GOOD DAY!!! 

And then your cat dies. So, bad day again. Then you find out your upstairs neighbor is running a brothel. Another bad day. You’re wondering if it’s possible to knock yourself out with a bat. But wait…

TACO BELL’S COMING OUT WITH A NEW WAY TO EAT A TACO! So you decide to keep going until you try that taco.

All the while the goons upstairs are laughing at us like, “He bought it! He thought his life was actually going to turn around!”

We’re like those horses following carrots on a stick. We keep walking for just one more tiny little nip…

I took a walk with my family yesterday. My 3 year old daughter and I found a tree and we climbed it. (She climbed it, I hauled myself up then got stuck.) Well, it turns out climbing a tree was the dumbest thing I could have done. Midnight rolls around and I have to pee. I go to climb out of bed and I cursed loud enough for my wife to shoot up. She thought it was finally TIME. You know, THE heart attack or THE stroke we’re all just waiting for.

She wasn’t so fortunate.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Mie buck huts.”

“What?”

“My bake horts.” (I can’t very well point to my back because, you know, your back gives and takes away movement.)

“What?” she asks again.

“Well now my freaking throat hurts because I’ve been straining to tell you that my back hurts!!!!”

I almost beg her to just stick a tube up my ding-a-ling so I don’t have to move. We have one of those Nosefrida’s for the baby, and I was wondering how to make that work…

Anyway. I settle for just the heating pad because when I go number one at home, I sit down so I don’t run the risk of making a mess. I never got the hang of Say It, Don’t Spray It.

ANYway. My wife gets the heating pad. She’s tying all these pulleys to me and hoisting me up and maneuvering me and rolls me on top of the heating pad. As soon as she gets back in bed I grab that controller and crank it all the way up like I’m Trump set loose in the room with the Red Button.

I woke up this morning feeling a thousand times worse. I almost called in sick for the year. Like, I felt like Han Solo frozen in carbonite. I couldn’t move a muscle.

So we get an IcyHot patch. My wife lifts my shirt to stick it on, and when she does, she screams.

Which, of course, makes me scream, because immediately I’m thinking I’ve been gashed or something and she’s staring at my intestines.

So we’re both screaming. And that makes the kids scream.

“What’s wrong! What’s wrong!” I scream.

“Your back! It has… It has… lines!”

An image of me turning into a zebra crosses my mind. Like, Pinocchio smoked and turned into a jack-ass. I thought I might turn into a zebra because I snuck a milkshake without sharing with anyone two nights ago (this falls under No. 3 in the 7 Deadliest Father Sins).

She grabs my phone and takes a picture. (How cool is it that our phones can work as mirrors?)

And she shows me this:

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Yes. Those are 2nd degree burn marks from the heating pad I had cranked up all night. (I knew I was dreaming about barbecue!

So what does this have to do with casinos and life and good days/bad days?

You can avoid a bad day if you don’t gamble on your body doing more than you’re capable. Let your kid climb the damn tree, don’t try it yourself.

 

 

 

What Star Wars Is Teaching Me

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I wasn’t introduced to the Star Wars universe until I was in middle school, when theaters everywhere re-released the digitally-enhanced original three as a prelude to the long-awaited prequels.

I liked the original Star Wars movie as much as any boy is expected to, but I never collected the bubble gum or action figures or anything like that. became a die-hard fan of Lucas’ intergalactic universe until Disney’s release of The Force Awakens, and my faith has been secured in the franchise after recently watching Rogue One on blur-ray.

But as I was watching it, I couldn’t help but shake my head and think about what a fortune was lost on behalf of 20th Century Fox, who had a pot of gold sitting in their lap that Disney took full advantage of.

Disney saw potential in what Fox clearly considered a lost cause. I applaud business people who take chances on what others don’t believe in. I’m glad Bob Iger saw redemption potential in a franchise that died a slow and painful death in the early part of this century.

Because someone still believed, the Force was awakened and is now stronger than it’s ever been.

If you have a person or a project or a dream you think is a lost cause, don’t give up on it. Don’t sell it short. Don’t walk away. Keep at it. Keep writing, keep chasing, keep pursuing, keep on loving that lost cause.

There just might be untapped potential.

 

Wanna Know What an Ear Infection Feels Like?

When I was young and healthy I sometimes thought, Gee, I’d love to be sick for a day so I can just lie down and watch movies all day.

And then I had kids.

Let me qualify this entire post by stating that my wife – and I would surmise most wives – get it the hardest when the plague hits home. Mothers get the bug and have to take care of the sick kids, the whiny husband (that’s me), do the laundry, the dishes, and no one’s there to tuck them in because they’ve already tucked everyone else in and kissed their foreheads (including the husband – again, me).

Our house has been a house of horrors the last couple of weeks.

The kids had midnight fevers so high that one started hallucinating, which I could only imagine was  a slithering pile of snakes, worms, and silverfish crawling toward him, because that’s how he was acting, and the other kid had seizures.

My wife got it bad – headaches, coughing, you name it. But she was up and out of bed each time she heard anyone wake up. She deserves a medal of honor.

And I barely escaped the flu but got an ear infection instead. And let me tell you, I think I’d rather have the flu than an ear infection. (Imagine someone taking fruit knives and slicing the inside of your ear canal. Then imagine them pouring salt in those slices. Then imagine they keep rubbing sandpaper all around your salted cuts. Then throw in a migraine.)

I thought ear infections were for kids. Apparently not. After two trips to the doctor, increased medication, it still hurts like a very bad mother.

So that’s why I’ve been absent from this blog.

BUT if you’re looking for some awesome things to read, I’d highly encourage you to start checking out this guy right here: EndeverPublishing.

Now, excuse me while I go die.

(On another note, I finally watched Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Rogue One. Both excellent films in every way for people who like steady, solid story lines.)

(Also, I was going to post a picture of the inside of my ear with yellow and green snotty wax dripping out of it, but I decided I didn’t want to lose any followers. So I’ll post this instead, because this is what I feel like:)

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Get well cards and flowers can be sent to my home in Kentucky. Also, I like sour worms, the candy. I always have to emphasize that I mean candy. Real worms terrify me.

Book Release Today!

I am proud to announce that Endever Publishing Studios is releasing its third book today: This Never Happened by R. Tim Morris!

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It is the peculiar story of Cepik Small (known as “Epic”) and his journey to find a sense of belonging in his world. Epic is unique in that he suffers from a cognitive disorder known as prosopagnosia, the inability to recognize and remember faces, which only adds to his feelings of disconnectedness.

Just as Epic begins seeing a new and unorthodox therapist, he also meets the bold and blithe Abigail Ayr. Then there are the questionable changes to his prescription meds, the ramblings of his dying father, his immersion into a virtual reality game, and the ghostly shadows he begins seeing everywhere. And when a novel found on the subway begins to strangely mirror events in Epic’s own life, his mysteries quickly and uncontrollably begin to unravel. Winding through a patchwork of allusions and clues, readers will slowly piece the truth together as Epic does, while simultaneously considering the possibility that our protagonist might actually be losing his grip on what’s real and what’s not. CLICK HERE TO BUY IT ON AMAZON

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R. Tim Morris is an anxiety-ridden, maladjusted, coffee drinking novelist, but not in a cliché way. When not writing, he works as a library technician at an independent school in Vancouver, Canada. When not doing either, he’s usually reading fiction (contemporary, speculative, graphic novels), playing board games, double-checking New York City subway routes, bleeding blue as a die hard Rangers fan, and bleeding red from stepping on the kids’ Lego… CLICK HERE TO BE REDIRECTED TO ENDEVER.COM TO READ MORE ABOUT MR. MORRIS AND THE REST OF THE ENDEVER AUTHORS.