flashlights & explosions.

I’ve got explosions going off in my brain right now.

EXPLOSIONS.

It makes me think of that Royskopp song—Flashlights, Explosions.

My stomach is also doing summersaults and dips and divvy-does.

I’ve eating a bunch of wonky stuff today: Clif Bar, Mexican dip, coffee cake, falafel, coleslaw, cheese, plus I didn’t take any of my life vitamins today, so that’s really making things weird.

Oy vey.

I was just realizing something, remember when everyone went psycho about swine flu? And the CDC and every other news outlet advised everyone to “wash their hands regularly, especially after touching possibly contaminated surfaces?”—what about everyday life?

Like, shouldn’t you be washing your hands anyways?

I read somewhere to “remember to wash your hands after dealing with fecal matter”.

Ummmm…unless your some sort of sicko scatologist, you better be damn sure you certainly wash your hands after touching poop.

And what would you be doing that would make you touch poop—aside from animal poop—certainly not human poop—but I don’t really want to get into that…I just find it odd that there’d be instructions on hand-washing.

I’ve always been a bit psycho with my hands—I hate when they are sticky, too dry, too moist: I need the perfect combination.

I wash my hands incessantly and also use antibacterial gels because I feel like everything is filthy.—I’m pretty gross, most of the time.

Pizza pie face.

~ by ninamazing on June 26, 2009.