this morning i was making breakfast. (that is not the scary part). i cracked the egg into the pan and turned to the sink to wash my hands. but i espied something as i was turning and it made me pause. i turned back around. and screamed.
dangling from the middle of the ceiling was a spider. he was either going for my head or he was suicidal and aiming for the hot frypan.
later i was sitting in the art room, minding my own business when suddenly i felt like going jogging. so i went. i put on some shorts. hey, if Dr. Chicken Legs can do it, so can i. Dont worry. I wore my blindingly white runners to detract attention from my legs so sexy.
i returned from my random exercise excursion and decided to satisfy my orange craving. i had one innoncent-looking orange. i sliced it into small, attractive wedges and sat down to enjoy them. the first one was tasty enough. as i was about to grab the second piece and eat it sight unseen, i stopped and looked at it. something was not right.
something was very wrong.
disgustingly wrong.
the inside of one end of the wedge looked like baby spit up (that chunky oatmeal-esque regurgitation). ewwwwww!
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