Do you ever have those days when your brain is so scattered and all that you can hear is the sound of pop-rocks going off in your scull but for whatever reason, you’re humming the theme to M*A*SH and watching your left thigh twitch? Oh, and the monkey. Don’t forget to mention the monkey. Wait. Naw, fuck it. Forget it.
I’m having one of those days. My neck is shaped like the base of a light bulb and my head is screwed on to it but it feels a little wobbly but you can’t tighten it too much because then the glass will shatter and then you’re fucked. So instead, I stop myself from tap tap tapping my pen on my desk because I know that when people do that around me I want to shoot them in the throat with a rocket launcher. There is an itty bitty ticking in my office and despite today’s propensity to assume the worst, I am not afraid that it’s a bomb.
Fuck would I ever love a fudgecicle right now. Do they still sell those?
