Blades of Glory.

3 Feb

My brother used to gather worms from the sidewalk when it rained and put them in buckets of water when he was little. I explained to him that worms don’t like water, and the reason they come up when it rains is because they’re trying to escape so they don’t drown, but he kept doing it. He killed a lot of worms.

I am presently trapped amidst the garbage and piles of miscellaneous junk that are occupying every inch of floor space in my room. Unless someone sends me food from elsewhere, I may starve to death on account of my inability to move. Something has to be done, and it looks like the easiest way out is to just set fire to my floor and let nature take its course.

I just picked my nose.

I recently went ice skating in our mall. Of course we got a wrist band to prove that we paid, and later I started reading the fine print. It reads, “Assumption of Risk and Release: I am aware that ice skating involves inherent risks, dangers and hazards which can result in serious personal injury or death.” Last time I checked, it’s pretty hard to kill yourself figure skating. Are these people assuming that some retard with a death wish is going to purposely stab himself with a skate blade? Unless you’re TRYING to end your life, or for some reason you get spontaneous and jump off the wall and dive face first into the ice and break your neck, which by the way is not figure skating–it’s actually what we call “acrobatics,” it’s just not going to happen. However I appreciate your concern.

I just indulged myself in a glorious raspberry muffin, compliments of Amy “I Bake and Drink Too” Cozad. It was delicious, and don’t think for ten seconds that I won’t eat a baker’s dozen more.

My hands smell like dead rat. I dissected a dead rat today. That’s why. That’s why my hands smell of dead rat.

“This is my smokin’ song!”


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