These are merely random musings, and do not necessitate any 9-1-1 calls.
I hate Hump Day, and I hate people who say Hump Day. I’m pretty sure literally everyone feels the same way.
I want to slather Vaseline on my face and then wrap it in swaddling towels with a tiny hole in the front for looking out. Then just lay on my couch watching Suze Orman lecturing some dude about his IRA. Stupid idiot. You need a Roth.
Maybe I could order a box of romance books and then set them on fire. I doubt my landlady would appreciate that, but what does she know of hearbreak?
The only fish-tank death that has occurred since I moved into this apartment was that suicidal snail. He used to climb up the glass to the top of the tank to and them hurl himself off until he landed on a plant or gravel below. I never gave him a name. I wonder if that would have made a difference.
I think if I were a guy, I’d be one of those brooding types who is repressed and doesn’t show his emotions in public. So, basically, I would be me with a penis and chest hair. Kind of a dick with issues.
I want to know what love is. And I want you to show me.
I once felt sorrow because I had no shoes. And then I saw a man with no feet. And I felt…what? Freaked out? Comparatively happy? What is the lesson here?
I used to feel sorrow because I was having a bad hair day. And then I saw a woman with a baby-blue side mullet. Namaste.
Why do they keep the Crest Whitestrips in the locked glass case at CVS? Are meth heads desperately trying to score a gleaming smile? Is this a thing?
I had a dream a few nights ago that I was looking up at the night sky and noticed that Mercury was really close to Earth. I pointed this out to someone, and then we watched the sun explode in the sky (at night, but – you know – it was a dream). I remember we discussed whether we should wake everyone up to tell them the world was ending. We decided it was better to let them sleep through it.