Lately I've been enjoying the wit of others far more than my own. My friends and the Internet have been slaying me. Though I did spit on my computer when the image of me in a drop-in hip hop class crossed my mind, for the love of pleather chairs humans are a strange and curious kind.
Here goes:
So a virus walks into a bar. The bartender says, "We don't serve viruses here." The virus replaces the bartender and says, "Well, now we do."
So an infectious disease walks into a bar. And the bartender says, "We don't serve infectious diseases here." The infectious disease scoffs, "Well you're not a very good host."
Two bacteria walk into a bar. The bartender says, "We don't serve bacteria here." The bacteria say, "But we work here, we're staph."
Schroedinger's Cat walks into a bar . . . and doesn't.
Okay, so I will never, ever be able to read this post again without having fits and convulsions.
Area rug: $0, not at all related to anything
This post is about nothing other than my 12 minute journey to Shoppers to buy $4.49 worth of light bulbs. So terribly onerous, I know. One might understand why I spent 3 months in the dark. Next mission? Fill my fishy bank with future light bulb funds. 
My skin lacks what the dictionary would call 'an intensity of colour'. (Read: I'm most pale, if not translucent). If I have a passing thought about sunshine I spawn freckles the way Octomom yields children. So fast and furious one can hardly keep track. 
Lately I've been enjoying the wit of others far more than my own. My friends and the Internet have been slaying me. Though I did spit on my computer when the image of me in a drop-in hip hop class crossed my mind, for the love of pleather chairs humans are a strange and curious kind. 
I really haven't been acting much like myself lately. It's pretty upsetting, really. I touched some business suits at the department store without shuddering, paid someone else to cut my hair, and forked out full retail price for this picture frame. 
