I can smell a school closing in the air. The smell is a combination of tears, bile and, strangely enough, burnt circus peanuts. I hope to fuck I'm not right but... I am. I'll bet my left buttermaker that the spawnage aren't goin' anywhere tomorrow morning. I wonder how many hours I can get them to enjoy the "lie-on-the-couch- with-my-eyes-closed-and-have-the-spawnage-place-things-in-my-
On a more personal note, I have the most incredible eggy flatus tonight and I know not from whence it comes. Well, I know from whence it comes... I just don't know from whence it was created. I didn't eat anything out of the ordinary today -- the usual bagel with cream cheese, coffee, turkey/swiss sandwich, fritos, apple, yogurt, carrots, a bowl of Cheerios, some pretzels, a few Newman-Os, half of Miss O's Morningstar Farms Griller Prime, some of Mr. Z's french fries, some Cheez-its, a couple of dried apricots, a sweet turkey sausage for dinner, and a handful of Nestle's semi-sweet chocolate chips before I headed up to bed. Where did the egginess come from? There's a lethal combo in there somewhere... I'm leaning toward the fusion of the Fritos, Swiss cheese and the sausage. Actually, I think those are the main ingrediments in mustard gas.
I just feel bad for the Old Lady tonight. In all seriousness, the other night, I apparently blew one in my sleep and woke us both up. She kinda pushed me and cursed me, and then I just sat there in the death vapor, laughing my skinny ass off at four in the morning. There's definitely an inadvertent, somnolent dutch oven a-brewin' this eve'n.
Poor Old Lady.