When our orchestra took a trip to New York, we got ice cream for dessert at Bubba Gump’s, and we didn’t know what malt vinegar was, and thought it was malt like malt milkshake, so we poured some into the ice cream and not a good experience, as a whole.
I get ‘corpuscles’ and ‘corpulence’ mixed up all the time.
In fact, when I was little, I thought corpuscles were fat people.
So, I was in APUSH today and my ear felt kind of weird, so I went to rub at it, and all this white powder fell out of my ear and I was wondering, “What the heck is this am I growing crack in my ear?” until I realized it was baking soda that got in there from washing it last night.
Let this be a lesson to you all: Don’t get baking soda in your ear.
I was trying to kill a bug, but I was using my left hand, and when I try to move my left hand, my right hand moves, too, so I got distracted by the mouse moving on the screen and missed the bug.
I just got fucking toothpaste in my eye.
How the fuck does one even do that.
What the fuck is wrong with me.
I’m even wearing glasses.
These things are just flying now. Okay, so March is apparently throw-bugs-at-Rommie month. I was vacuuming, and the vacuum kept running over this green thingy, and I was like, hm, that looks like a piece of foam block, maybe it’s left over from that birthday party, the vacuum’s being retarded and not getting it, so let me pick it up.
I pick it up, and it’s smooth and squishy, and me not liking smooth, squishy things as much as I do, with respect to the slug incident earlier this week, I jumped and squeaked.
GUESS WHAT, GUYS?
A FUCKING DEAD CATERPILLAR. Or some caterpillar-like thing. BRIGHT GREEN.
NOT COOL, NATURE. THAT THING DOES NOT BELONG IN MY ROOM.
Anyways, I used one of my Latin vocabulary cards from two years ago (vexare, appropriately) to throw it away.
I don’t like bugs.
Only I would manage to gash myself with a plastic instant coffee container.
Is this not the most harmless coffee container you have ever seen?
It doesn’t even have CORNERS.
Okay, so hey, it’s spring again, which means I’m planting my basil again, which means these fucking ungodly creatures are back again. AND THEY’RE BACK WITH A FUCKING VENGEANCE.
I’m just minding my own business, digging up soil to put in my pots to grow basil, and I put the trowel down for thirty seconds to dump some seeds into the soil. My right hand was only messing with the trowel, so I didn’t have a glove on that hand, and I go to pick the trowel back up again, and A FUCKING SLUG IS CHILLING ON THE UNDERSIDE OF THE HANDLE, RIGHT WHERE I GRABBED IT.
HOW THE FUCK DOES A SLUG GET ONTO THE HANDLE OF MY TROWEL IN UNDER THIRTY SECONDS. HOW. SLUGS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FUCKING SLOW. IT WASN’T EVEN A NORMAL SLUG. IT LOOKED SICKLY. GREEN. AND REALLY FUCKING GROSS AND LARGE.
And my mom’s like, “When I was young, slugs were twice that size.”
Thanks, Mom. That’s really reassuring.
Apparently I walked around all yesterday with a giant hole in the back of my pants and either no one noticed or no one cared to tell me.
Luckily, my underwear was the same color as my pants, so hopefully the former.
But honestly. It’s not like I have an enormous butt to pop a hole in the back of my favorite non-denim pants. This is sad. I shall have to find another pair with six pockets.
My grandma’s coming this Friday, and so my mom’s slowly preparing the house for her arrival, i.e., moving the furniture around so that I’ll have a “room” to sleep in, and cleaning up the bathroom. So I walk into the bathroom to grab my bathrobe, and fail to notice the brand new weird memory foamy bathmat on the ground.
I don’t think my feet are used to feeling things that soft, and they kind of stopped but my body kept moving and I almost face planted.
