Souper hot.

11 Oct

There is a rogue mosquito flying around my living room. Nothing makes me more paranoid than an insect in my personal space. It keeps appearing and disappearing after I frantically and spastically wave it away. I will absolutely lose it if it sneaks up on me and sucks my blood. BOY do I hate mosquito bites.

My tomato soup is dead set on staying at a scorching 200 degrees. I feel like it’s been sitting in this bowl for at least 10 minutes. It’s still steaming like a river of molten lava. For all I know, someone switched my bowl of Campbell’s for a bowl of piping hot magma and sprinkled croutons on it as a cruel practical joke. “HA! Not soup, you have no tongue. Lol.” 

Tomato soup is made better by leaps and bounds with the simple addition of garlic croutons. It goes from elementary to gourmet in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately it makes your breath stink like ass. No pain no gain, though.

My amigo was just complaining about just now getting over the flu. “You didn’t get vaccinated?”  I inquired, as if I get vaccinated annually. (I don’t). I would rather endure four to five days of roller coaster chills/hot flashes, vomiting, and coughing like a SARS infested Asian than get pricked with a needle. BAH! I hate needles. Like, I really, really hate them. My father used to sometimes sneak up on me and stab me with a flu vaccine every now and again. I’ve become very weary and apprehensive of him lingering around during the holiday season. I’m all jumpy and uneasy. He grabs a pen and I karate chop him in the collar bone. You can’t be too careful. There’s nothing worse than the sneak attack needle stabbing. It’ll put you on the shit list straight away. Did you hear that, Dad?

…I’m onto you.

In other news, I have begun recording some makeshift at-home Garage Band songs on my computer. The quality blows, and sometimes it’s screaming loud and other times it’s quiet as a mouse, but take a gander if you wish. If you don’t like it, well… bad.


That Adele, she really gets me going. P.s. – that is not me on the piano. The only thing I can play on the piano is “Deck The Halls,” and that’s with one finger.


Hopefully I’m not just embarrassing myself on the world wide web. Only one way to find out.

WELLLLLL, time to go breathe my rank garlic mouth on others.

Kidding. That’s rude.


R:   “Do you know this song?”

B:   “No.”

R:   “You don’t recognize this from prom?”

B:   “Randon, when you were at prom, I was in diapers shitting myself.”


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