1. This is proving to be one excellent week and it's only Wednesday. I'm having lots of fun and that's all I am going to say. :)
2. The hallway of our office building smells of burnt toast which makes no sense. But the smell (here we go with smell related flashbacks again) reminded me of being little and staying at my aunt's home over summer breaks. The only thing Michael would eat was burnt toast with bacon bits on it. And the cool part was our aunt was cool with it. Didn't try to force healthy things down our throats, just let us eat what we wanted, which for M was 'bacon bit sammachs' and for me tended to be cheese puffs. I loved going to her house bc she would let us watch Weekend at Bernies as many times as we wanted and her backyard pool always seemed much cooler than ours, but only bc we could watch the train go by while swimming.
3. This cough I have won't go away and mom thinks I need to start using my inhaler again (you know, like I am supposed to all the time) or I'm going to give myself bronchitis. again. No, I don't like sounding like an 80 year old coalminer but I also don't like the feeling the albuterol induced irregular heartbeat, where I feel like my guts are going to explode out of my chest cavity in a very quentin tarantino-esque manner. (forgive, I watched Pulp Fiction again recently). so we're going to hold out for a few more days before we pick the puffing habit back up (notice how I made that sound illegal, eh eh) namely because my inhaler is in the wilds of b.county from the last time I tried to use it and ended up staying awake half the night with crazy legs. And believe me, you should pick up on the irony that i'm wearing my nerd glasses and a sweatervest while discussing an inhaler. Quick, someone find me a pocket protector and a fanny pack.
4. I really do love sweater vests. They enhance the nerd power to the mega tense.
5. I have a theory that I'm working on that will probably be it's own post in the next few days bc I want to add graphics to illustrate it. For now it is titled, My Life as a Soap Opera, or: How My Attraction to Jerks on Television Explains My Messed Up Thought Process. To be continued.
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