FROOT LOOPS
I just cracked myself up, and scared many people in the process.
As I stroll (innocently) into the walk-in frig this fine morning, looking (innocently) for breakfast for the before said morning, I fail to realize that the floor of the frig is what can be called nothing other than "satan's slip and slide." Now it is as though the cosmos align for one moment: for the split second before the frig door closes, every early-riser in the quiet kitchen gets to see me airborne, and hear "OH HOLY MOTHER FUCKER!" The door closes just in time to cut out "fucker" in a divine act of censorship, and spare them the sight of me falling flat on my back next to the tomatoes, which I had been unable to find for dinner the night before.
Proceeding quickly is the discovery of froot loops, and in light of above stated incidents I was willing to let colored Os do what eggs and toast would have done- minus nutrients, but plus snazz. Bags under my eyes and pissed, I grab a bowl the size of a sink, and empty half a box of froot loops into it. I now spend a good fifteen minutes laughing at the inanimate object which is my bathtub of cereal. People come up to me and ask what's up, but I can only point at my heaping supplies and laugh louder. When they see what I am laughing at, I can only manage to say "I don't plan on coming back to the kitchen for a long time." Now they think this sober person is 1) stoned 2) out of her mind 3) both. However, when I come back to my room, clutching the ginormous bowl with both arms, staggering and laughing so hard that there's no noise coming out anymore, my roommates see me and start laughing too. At least some people understand my needs.
Lesson of the day: get more than three and a half hours of sleep in a given night.
As I stroll (innocently) into the walk-in frig this fine morning, looking (innocently) for breakfast for the before said morning, I fail to realize that the floor of the frig is what can be called nothing other than "satan's slip and slide." Now it is as though the cosmos align for one moment: for the split second before the frig door closes, every early-riser in the quiet kitchen gets to see me airborne, and hear "OH HOLY MOTHER FUCKER!" The door closes just in time to cut out "fucker" in a divine act of censorship, and spare them the sight of me falling flat on my back next to the tomatoes, which I had been unable to find for dinner the night before.
Proceeding quickly is the discovery of froot loops, and in light of above stated incidents I was willing to let colored Os do what eggs and toast would have done- minus nutrients, but plus snazz. Bags under my eyes and pissed, I grab a bowl the size of a sink, and empty half a box of froot loops into it. I now spend a good fifteen minutes laughing at the inanimate object which is my bathtub of cereal. People come up to me and ask what's up, but I can only point at my heaping supplies and laugh louder. When they see what I am laughing at, I can only manage to say "I don't plan on coming back to the kitchen for a long time." Now they think this sober person is 1) stoned 2) out of her mind 3) both. However, when I come back to my room, clutching the ginormous bowl with both arms, staggering and laughing so hard that there's no noise coming out anymore, my roommates see me and start laughing too. At least some people understand my needs.
Lesson of the day: get more than three and a half hours of sleep in a given night.