Sometimes, I just want to eat an entire box of Lucky Charms all by myself. I have been known to go to the grocery store to buy a Warehouse Pack-sized box of Lucky Charm and 2 litres of milk, then go home, sit at the table, and eat until my teeth ache. I have no idea why I do this. The worst part is actually *buying* the cereal at the store. If it weren’t for being all illegal n’ crap, I’d just steal the stuff to save myself the humiliation of bringing a box of Lucky Charms to the counter. However, I recently came up with a brilliant solution. All I need to do is buy a roll or wrapping paper with my Lucky Charms! It’ll look like a gag gift, and I am guilt-free and ready to gorge. I could even go the extra mile and buy a birthday card as well, but that’s just wasting money.

The Cheerleader I Live With and I were discussing air guitar this morning. Y’see, he has this habit of playing air bass instead of air guitar, and if I’m not playing air drums, I rock the air tambourine. We’re quite the band on our own, but we know we need an air lead guitarist and an air singer as well, or we’re not going to make anything of ourselves. We also need an air manager. We could probably use an air limo driver, as well. Thank god we don’t need air roadies though, because this is already getting expensive.

I was lying in bed last night thinking of scorpions (the critters, not the band), and I had an epiphany. Thinking that it was of the utmost importance to share my epiphany with the sleeping Cheerleader I Live With, I woke him up and solemnly declared, “scorpions scare the crap out of me, man”. With his back still turned to me, The Cheerleader I Live With just sighed and mumbled, “of course they do. They’re fucking scorpions. Go to sleep”. How am I supposed to sleep when I’m thinking about scorpions (the critters, not the band)?! Obviously he didn’t understand, so obviously I needed to explain it. I then proceeded to retell an exceedingly long story about my friend’s grandma who found a scorpion in her suitcase, and proceeded to beat on it with a clog, but the thing wouldn’t die, no matter how many times she bashed it. I was almost half-way through my story when The Cheerleader I Live With rolled over onto his back, threw his hands up, and rudely interrupted me by yelling, “Oh my god! I give up!” I was so upset that I couldn’t even finish my story, no matter how many times he told me to ‘just finish it’. Even when he started saying ‘please finish the goddamn story’ in a mock-crying sort of way… well, I’m pretty sure it was a mock-type of way. I couldn’t really tell, because it was pretty dark. Thankfully all of his yelling started making me feel sleepy, so I curled up into my little sleep-ball and nodded off to the soft sounds of The Cheerleader I Live With sobbing and saying “why god, why?” for some reason.

My friend had an obstetrician tell her that an in-utero baby is like a tapeworm. I think that’s awesome.

Happy Friday everyone!