My Eating Disorder

Relax people, it's not as serious as all that. What I'm trying to say is that, despite my 29 years of experience in chewing food, I still can't seem to get it right. I'll bite my lip a few times a month, and the inside of my cheek even more frequently. Of course that only exacerbates things and causes me to continue to pepper my every bite of food with another layer of cheek flesh, which is no one's favorite. But that's not even my main problem. Everyone does those things pretty regularly and will likely continue to do so because we're a nation of rushed eaters.

What I'm talking about is even more embarrassing than that nonsense. What I'm talking about is knowingly eating something that's going to fire up the inside of my mouth and not having the patience to wait for it to cool. The item in this example was a fish sandwich. A fish sandwich that was breaded and therefore needed to be fried. In oil. Oil that was hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock full of lava. So what this breading did was to effectively cause a pocket of hot oil to be trapped in between itself and the other fishy layer of deliciousness. I knew this going in. And yet I still was somehow able to convince my stupid brain that the 4 seconds the sandwich had spent on my plate was enough to cool it sufficiently.

So I then did what any other retarded manchild might have done in that situation. I bit into it with reckless abandon. That Goddamn fish sandwich filled my mouth with liquid agony so quickly that my next seven generations of taste buds were flash fried instantaneously. My eyes watered up and all I could see from that point on was hatred.

I'm not really that mad about it anymore. I got what I deserved. All I'm really trying to say is that you should let your food cool before you eat it. And if you just can't be bothered to wait, give me a call. Because I'll gladly jam that first bite blindly into my food hole.

...Don't judge me.

Liar Liar, Arm's On Fire

Hey, you there! Have you ever caught fire? Have you ever not realized it right away? Well, if there was a competition for it, I'd likely be at least one up on you.

The other day I wanted to light a candle. Don't judge. I'm a sophisticated dude with a smelly apartment. Being that I had no lighter and nary a match, I did what any sophisticated man would do. I took apart a clothespin, lit it on the gas stovetop and used that to light the candle. Take a moment to revel in the brilliance of that.

Okay, now that you're done basking in my genius, prepare yourself for the dumb. So the candle is lit and is trying desperately to do a near impossible task (of making my apartment not smell like cheese and disappointment). I'm trying to enjoy it, appreciate it. While doing this, I'm also running my fingers through the hair on my arm (well how do YOU get to sleep?!) when I notice that it's all clumpy and crusty. "Asay Whaaaat?" I thought to myself (I often think to myself in the voice of a '70s pimp). I go in for a closer look and notice that almost all the hair on the underside of my right forearm is singed.

...I lit myself on fire and didn't even notice. I'm an adult. I live by myself. I'm in serious trouble.

Anyway, it took me a solid 15 minutes of precise pruning to effectively manscape my arm back into what might pass for normal. Let me ask you this. Have you ever had to do a combover on your arm? Yeah, uh, me neither.

Please just leave it alone.