Unpleasantly Persevering Pink Pukings

So here I am yet again, with merely nothing to do and my mind is filled with the rushing and spilling thoughts of my insanity.

Sounds quite like fun, doesn't it?
Eh, I suppose it is, sometimes. But the sad thing is that my ideas go to waste most times, simply because I am too timid to stand and seize the moment when it comes, preventing it's wicked escape from my weak hands. But instead I sit by and watch the moment fly pass like many of the curious geese gliding to the south for the frosty season. I have an absolute need to summon up my strength, but for some reason I can't even summon the strength to have the strength to summon my own unsummoned strength. (Dawg?) Eh, the mind of the weak is worth that of a crumble of dirt. I suppose I'll just hide under my bed for a couple of years.

Mexican food is delicious. Burritos=God's Dinner

I have found that I am constantly having this craving for candy, and I can't help it. It's rather strange. In junior high, I merely shrugged the fact that candy even existed. All of my thoughts consisted of thinking of how unhealthy and worthless it is, but now I am always in the eternal thirst for sweet sugar and fat. All I can think is all day is "Wow, what a good thing a nice ol' Reese's would be right now!" And then that turns into a "I kinda' just want any chocolate in general." Which soon but not too soon grows into the monstrosity of "I MUST HAVE SUGAR AND FAT!!! ANY PERSONS FOUND CONTAINING ANY AMOUNT OF CANDY WITHIN A 3 FOOT RADIUS OF THEM WILL BE DESTROYED AND ALL SWEET SUBSTANCES TAKEN AND DEVOOOOOOUUUURRRRRRREEEEEDDDD!!!"

I'm somewhat of a cyborg bear on steroids and in shoot-to-kill mode when it comes to sugar.

Halloween was just great. I went trick-or-treating (Yes, I'm 15. Your point?) and after a long hour or two of sore feet, I returned home with my bag full of jewels of great worth. (Pearls of great price?) And I continued to sort my candy until all of my favorite delights were in one pile and all that was only worth as a trade were sorted into the other pile. The latter pile contained a majority of twizzlers, so I thought, "Oh, I don't mind twizzlers, I'll just eat all of those and get them over with."

No. Never again.

I then ate all 27 of the twizzlers of various sizes and colors. Stuffing my face to try and rid myself of the pain of dealing with unwanted candy, but not wanting it to go to a complete waste. So the next morning I wake up, my stomach screaming at me and punishing me for giving it an early Christmas present. I tried to ignore it, went to school, and then first period.

Oh, first period.

I got that feeling. You know the feeling? I mean, THE feeling. So I ran to the bathroom as fast as my chubby little legs could take me. And I knelt before the toilet seat.

And puked.

I puked the remains, the sickening remains of what I thought was only to last a moment the night before.

So I went home, and took a seven hour nap. End of story!

The moral of this story is that you should never eat twizzlers, and especially not too many. And also, throwing up pink substances sucks. Really sucks.

Well, there's the short and bitter summary of my life. I kinda' get sick even telling that story. Blehck. Never again will those darn twizzlers enter my sight again! If anyone ever offers me one, I will personally punch them down, steal their organs, and sell them. And then punch them again.

Good night to all.

Christmas is coming! (The goose is getting fat?)