I like them.
Here, have a list!
- Raw celery.
- Raw onions.
- The banana-shaped Runts, or any artificially-banana-flavored candy.
- Most anything that Mike Rowe of “Dirty Jobs” eats.
Sounds like a handy skill… Wish I could do it well enough to make any good use of it.
I love the “t-tss, t-tss” sounds Regina Spektor whispers at the end of the song “Eet” and the way that it fades out gradually to end the track.
I’ve always found using a fork to eat a salad to be a very tedious task.
[Of course, it has to be a leafy salad—green, house, Caesar. Otherwise, a fork might as well be used.]
You see, I do like stabbing my food—don’t get me wrong—but a leaf of lettuce as thin as cheap copy paper [and much soggier, mind you] is just not something that is very stab-able. If I stab at a piece of food, I want it to stay on the tool used to impale it.
What I find in my case is that the lettuce usually isn’t even willing to cooperate with my fork.
When trying to eat a thin piece of lettuce from my salad, I usually end up using my fork as if it were a spoon, fishing around and herding the lettuce bits, scooping the things up the side of my salad bowl, praying for the stuff to stay on my fork on the trip from my bowl to my mouth.
I love salad. I just hate performing the task of eating it with a fork.
From now on, I think we should all eat green, leafy salads with our hands—or, if you’re all tied up in behaving in a “socially acceptable” manner, use a spoon.
Maybe I’d make an exception for all of you fork enthusiasts
If you have one.
I’ve never owned a shirt—or any piece of clothing, for that matter—that I’ve considered “lucky.”
I’m more of the kind of person who favors a certain article of clothing, piece of jewelry, or trinket to keep in my pocket, not because of luck, but because I’ve got some special attraction or nostalgic emotional attachment to it.
Also, my anxious habits that form are hard to break. They may start out as something caused by a memory attached with a piece of clothing, something like that, but then they develop into something that I just HAVE to do, just to keep it as routine.
PROTIP: Before shooting two whole 36-exposure rolls of expensive slide film in your new/used Lomo LC-A straight from eBay, getting said rolls of film developed, and finding that they are blank, check camera for batteries.
You’ll look at me and for a moment, you don’t recognize me and then you say something like, “I swear, I know you.” And you do. Then, we’ll spend so much with each other. You’ll fall in love with me just as I fell in love with you. But I’m going to break your heart just as you broke mine. I hope then, you’ll realize how much you hurt me and how much you missed out. Then, later on. We see each other again. We’re forty-somethings, with a family, married, and have children. Then, we have an intense, hot affair, realizing that we were made for each other anyway.
I want something like this to happen to me.
Just like in the chick flicks.
I wish beat poetry would roll off the tip of my tongue as naturally as exhalation comes right after drawing in an overdue yawn.
i go to college
just liek ur mom
[Okay, so I saw Napoleon Dynamite once and didn’t really like it… but I’ll sound like such a hipster if I make reference to it right? Right????]
Now there is kitty poo everywhere.
Not just plain ol’ poo, either. It’s drizzly, liquid, my-cat-is-sick diarrhea poo.
It’s kinda smelly. ):<