a little word from story logging nation- btw my contraban sour/cream and onion chips and my togo roastbeef sub- i hate how the chips get stuck in the indents of my teeth. i have to fish the goo out. this is so not cool. i realize also with each passing day that my nose only pics up distinct odors and scents- for instance, this weekend, apparently a baby dropped a bomb and the mother almost threw up, the 2 other people in the room were aghast and i sat there with barely a reaction. cuz i couldn't smell anything. people really don't understand this. also i must play the- i can barely smell this amplifies my hearing card- which must explain my neurosis to car signal clickers, loud gulping, and ambient ticking dripping scratching sounds of any kind- and why if and when i become a mother i'd embrace ear-plugs. my use of the word 'bomb' also is of note bcs the more i listen to skate language and these 2 characters in which i log the more their vernacular is going to seep into my head- that's why chil'dre'n it's best to mind what you watch. cuz dog, u dropped and i was about to think we had a situation.
more lat'a on church r-treats and work.
M OUT
1 comment:
Oh, my.
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