November 21, 3:51 p.m.: Why did I think reheated nachos and beer were a reasonable choice for last night’s dinner? I feel like someone inflated a balloon in my colon. Less than 24 hours in, and there’s a good chance that I have done irreparable damage to my alimentary canal. I’m considering swallowing a handful of pins to pop the balloon.
The dogs were looking at me disdainfully the entire time I was getting ready for work this morning. I think they suspect that I murdered J-Kerm. The elder one had gas with that sickly sweet smell like rotten fruit. I suspect that I didn’t account for all of the nachos last night. I also suspect I’m sleeping with the windows open tonight.
I tried to return a box of dog treats during lunch, and the kid behind the counter flat-out said “No.” I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I left. What a weird world this is.
Call me when the phrase, “My God, why did I eat all of that peanut butter?” runs through your mind.
On second thought, don’t call me.
You should have explained to the kid that, while the dogs enjoyed the biscuits, you didn’t. He will promptly give you your money back.
86 those olives.
Dude. That’s funny $Hit. I laughed my ass off twice while reading this post.