A Story about Fuzz Machine Addiction

This is a story about my personal fuzz machine addiction. Above is my favorite fuzz (the mountain) and a deceased fuzz that I miss very much (the mountain climber). Sadly, Captain Underpants (the mountain climber) has since passed away due to a malfunction of the climate control system during my first year as an undergraduate at Hofstra University. In other words, someone left the heat on and Captain Underpants overheated. It was a very sad time. He was perhaps one of the greatest roommates I have ever had. Although Mo was pretty kickass too. Anyways, we are getting ahead of ourselves in my chronicles. This is not a story about Captain Underpants, but the trials and tribulations of fuzz machine addiction.

For all those of you who do not know about this addiction – it affects thousands, nay, millions of people worldwide. You probably have some people close to you who suffer from this addiction. Perhaps this is people who can’t stop themselves from entering every pet store they pass to get their dog a chew toy. Or maybe it’s your friend who never leaves the house without first spending so much cuddle time with their cat that they look like they went swimming in a cat hair pool. Or maybe it’s your crazy neighbor who gets up at 6 am every morning to ride a huge smelly beast who poops too much every day (even Saturday and Sunday!). There are many varieties of these people all suffering from the same affliction: fuzz machine addiction (aka. FMA). This a blog about one of those people: Me.