I just ate some spicy Thai pasta chicken salad concoction from Trader Joes. It was exciting because it was spicy enough that it cleared my sinuses, and it also had carrots and some celery in it, which I am allergic to. I like eating foods I’m allergic to in small doses because it makes me all tingly in my mouth and causes bumps to appear on my lips. Like this kid:
Just kidding. It’s not that severe. But it is exciting. I love living on the edge. Last year, I ate cherries and my face freaked out while I was teaching at school. I called my secretary, barely able to speak because my throat was closing, and she came upstairs and spoon fed me Benadryl in front of my seventh grade class. It was hilarious. Then I took a nap under my desk after they left.
Last night I put some Bengay on my shoulders and then didn’t wash my hands right away, picked my nose, and it was the WEIRDEST feeling. But kinda fun.
Have you ever noticed that people are always picking their noses at stop lights? Like, really digging for gold. What is that about?
People are so boring when they say they’re too busy for stuff. They say they’re just sooooo busy, and meanwhile in my head I’m thinking, hey buddy, we’re ALL busy. But Americans compare our busyness like it actually matters. Like we might win a prize for being really super busy. We always think we are busier than everyone else around us. We all always fancy ourselves to be the exception.
One such case is when I am driving. I’m pretty sure that everyone is a bad driver except me. Does no one have anywhere to go or anything to do except me? I’m convinced that I have a magical magnet in my Corolla that draws all tourists, people “enjoying the view,” old ladies, and lost people to me. The people who stop at green lights. Who leave blinkers on for miles. Who are chronic brake-steppers. Who are texting and swerving into my lane. Or who think they are outsmarting the “hands free cell phone while driving” law by holding it out away from their ear while yelling into it and still driving one-handed.
My roommate is getting rid of our turtle, Gertrude.
I’m really happy about this. I thought the turtle was cute for a while. But then she started to mold and really really smell. I gave her a ping pong ball as a present, and she never even plays with it. And she has gotten really aggressive against her bowl towards my fish, Ke$ha, who is in a nearby bowl. Also, late at night, the turtle stomps around in her cage on the rocks and scares me when I’m watching Xfiles repeats.
I’ve decided turtles are stupid pets. You can’t pet them. You can’t hold them. They have zero reaction when you enter a room. You can’t kill them and make it look like an accident. I thought about it for a minute.
I also don’t like birds as pets. Either a turtle or a bird as a pet on a dude might be a total deal breaker. The thing is…I’m scared of birds. I’m scared of fish, too, in lakes, but I like Ke$ha in her/his bowl. She’s pretty and I get really excited when I spy her in her castle.
In other things that are fun…I inspired the illustrated tweet of the day on the lovely site hellogiggles.com.
It looks like this:
Pretty perfect, ay?