*Crystalline* Cake? Bah. BAH.
Yesterday, I did a bad thing
I was at work when I wondered why I felt so nauseous and lightheaded.
Oh yeah, I was hungry.
So I foraged the mighty lounge, hoping that my lovely coworkers had brought in "sharing food" as usual.
Alas.
The plastic utensils in the cupboards didn't look promising and neither did the paper plates, so I took to the fridge, subconsciously aware that I was about to commit a horrendous act.
I had no food, but in the fridge lay scattered edible items--claimed in the sense that they kinda belonged to my coworkers, unclaimed in the sense that they had yet to be digested. I focused on the second state of being. Oh yes, they were unclaimed, subject to my salivating maw.
Carrots. Smooshed taco. Bread thing. Raspberry coconut-sprinkled twinkie.
Hell. Yes., I thought.
I took this, and I stress, unclaimed twinkie, carried it to my office and consumed it. Without guilt, might I mention, and then buried the wrapper in my trash can toward the bottom, near the used bar code slips.
Things that piss me off and, coincidentally, make me bleed
Walking downstairs for a shower, I tripped with one foot in front of the other. My right big toenail scraped against my left heel, causing immediate and swear-inducing pain. I bled.
Why do these things happen to me? Goddammit.
I fell limp on my bed, a peanut butter sandwich in one hand. Opening my book, the cover edge grazed a crest of creamy peanut butter. I was awkwardly slumped over four pillows, and so, as I stretched to flop my sandwich onto its plate, my chin grazed the very same peanut butter encased edge.
Outraged, I shrieked. My arm jerked, the sandwich skidding off the plate, the book flying to smack against a wall.
I was very angry about this for the rest of the night.
Mandy and I conclude that Black Mambas are really cute and they should wrap around our wrists and snuggle without biting and filling us with lethal poison.
I was at work when I wondered why I felt so nauseous and lightheaded.
Oh yeah, I was hungry.
So I foraged the mighty lounge, hoping that my lovely coworkers had brought in "sharing food" as usual.
Alas.
The plastic utensils in the cupboards didn't look promising and neither did the paper plates, so I took to the fridge, subconsciously aware that I was about to commit a horrendous act.
I had no food, but in the fridge lay scattered edible items--claimed in the sense that they kinda belonged to my coworkers, unclaimed in the sense that they had yet to be digested. I focused on the second state of being. Oh yes, they were unclaimed, subject to my salivating maw.
Carrots. Smooshed taco. Bread thing. Raspberry coconut-sprinkled twinkie.
Hell. Yes., I thought.
I took this, and I stress, unclaimed twinkie, carried it to my office and consumed it. Without guilt, might I mention, and then buried the wrapper in my trash can toward the bottom, near the used bar code slips.
Things that piss me off and, coincidentally, make me bleed
Walking downstairs for a shower, I tripped with one foot in front of the other. My right big toenail scraped against my left heel, causing immediate and swear-inducing pain. I bled.
Why do these things happen to me? Goddammit.
I fell limp on my bed, a peanut butter sandwich in one hand. Opening my book, the cover edge grazed a crest of creamy peanut butter. I was awkwardly slumped over four pillows, and so, as I stretched to flop my sandwich onto its plate, my chin grazed the very same peanut butter encased edge.
Outraged, I shrieked. My arm jerked, the sandwich skidding off the plate, the book flying to smack against a wall.
I was very angry about this for the rest of the night.
Mandy and I conclude that Black Mambas are really cute and they should wrap around our wrists and snuggle without biting and filling us with lethal poison.