Don't Come Crying to Me

okay so a couple of things.

first i ignore rules of grammar, spelling, capitalization and punctuation, usually, so don't waste your precious time by pointing these things out. "Why yes, I do realize that blogger has a spell check. I didn't use it because it's friggin boring."

second i do try not to get serious or babble on about deep issues, though occasionally i will.

third if you can pick out the theme to all of my post titles you will maybe get a cookie or a nonsarcastic "way to go skippy" at the very least.

lastly, thanks for coming, who are you and why are you reading this? you must be bored.



Tuesday, June 2, 2009

i must be, the bahamas are islands.

okay if i am ever in your presence and say the following, you are to promptly kick me repeatedly in my stomach until i projectile vomit (i am not even kidding):

"hey let's go to mc'ee d's and get a breakfast sandwich and some hash browns!"

i keep forgetting that having changed my diet to include fast food lunches and dinners only occasionally (like a McD's quarter pounder once every 4 to 9 months) means my stomach is not predisposed to digesting the homogenized grease they serve for breakfast. i don't care if it tastes good it's not worth being immediately stricken with the worst case of IBS and explosive diarrhea in history which causes me to have to clench down on my colon for 45 minutes in order not to embarass myself in front of my gyn or worse commit murder by toxic flatulence, the result of which gives my large intestine that much longer to grow all the more hateful and plot it's revenge for my folly.

again another terrible life lesson learned, not only can i no longer drink like a 21 year old, i can't eat like one either.

excuse me while i curl up and die as my body disembowels itself via my rectum. that is all.
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