I have nothing to say today, so I asked around for a topic generator. Catherine sent me this one, which has generated the following topics for me:
Atom Fusion: I think it’s just awesome. Atoms are pretty great, so naturally the only thing better than one atom would be two (or MORE) atoms fused together in some way. My mind is blown just thinking about how wikked sick that would be!
Scatting in Music: …
9th SS Panzer Division Hohenstaufen: Not nearly as good as the 7th.
Avoiding the Flue: Duck.
The Secret Life of Benjamin Franklin: Pimpin’ ain’t easy.
Okay, that is clearly not working for me. I might as well just post the crap I wrote this morning about my day-long wardrobe malfunction:
Getting dressed this morning was a frickin’ comedy of errors.
It’s nice out, so I wanted to wear a skirt. No problem – open closet, get skirt, put it on. I’m having one of those picky mornings though, and I couldn’t find a top to wear with my bottom so I gave up on the skirt and put on a dress. Easy! Except I couldn’t find the little jacket thing I normally wear with that dress, so off it came. Fine, I’ll wear jeans. I pulled some on and looked for a shirt. Same problem as before – I hate my entire closet – so I gave up and pulled on a couple of old, comfortable favourites. Clothed but not necessarily satisfied, I went into the living room to find my watch and keys. As I shoved my phone into my pocket, I heard something riiiiiiiiiip – did I mention that my shirt was an *old* favourite? The material disintegrated in the arm, leaving giant holes that can’t be fixed. I had to bail on the shirt, and finally yanked a hazard-free cardigan out of my closet. I am not impressed with this turn of events – not only is my bedroom floor an epic disaster due to my indecisive nature; I now hate every piece of clothing I own. Normally I’d purge the offending items and go shopping, but I have a trip coming up next month and I’m trying to save money so I’ll just have to look like a hobo for the unforeseeable future.
It doesn’t help that I spilled sweet n’ sour sauce all down the front of my white tank top. Twice.
I should give up now.