So I sat down today with absolutely nothing to write about. Then I stood up, went to the kitchen, and pulled an apple out of the kitchen drawer. Then it hit me. I should write about apple cores.
I know, right? Just the phrase “apple cores” makes you twitch with agony and frustration, right? I mean, the Hell! They’re in every. single. apple. Every one. It’s a plague. It’s a travesty. It’s just wrong.
Remember how I made a bacon bouquet for Rocco on Valentine’s Day? Well, rest assured I won’t be making him a bacon nativity scene for Christmas. Unless I truly can’t think of anything else. And I can figure out a better base than a giant pan of sauerkraut.
Is that the least appetizing word you’ve ever heard or what? Sauerkraut. Sauer. Kraut. I can’t imagine enjoying any kind of kraut, be it sauer or otherwise. Kraut sounds like some sort of pain you’d still have after a really bad case of scabies or something.
Why yes, I did have trouble sleeping last night. Why do you ask?
Did you know that if you start to type “What is Kraut?” in Google you get:
*waves apologetically at The Bloggess for blatantly copying her red arrows and google boxes*
So first, I feel safe in saying that the previously mentioned bacon nativity scene is not kosher. Second, I hate it when math sneaks up on you, especially the Boltzawhatevs kind of math. I mean just looking at that line makes my head hurt. Then again my head hurt before I looked at that line but I’m pretty sure it hurts more now.
|Head pain before searching for “what is k”||â‰¤||Head pain after searching for “what is k”|
|Head pain before trying to figure out how to type weird math symbols||â‰¤||Head pain after trying to figure out how to type weird math symbols|
And square roots? What the hell? I think that’s what was wrong with the mean, talking trees in the Wizard of Oz. You know the ones that pelted poor Dorothy with the apples? Well I’d bet good money they had square roots. I figure that’s the tree equivalent of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. It’s no wonder those trees were so damn cranky.
Speaking of cranky…
What, why are you looking at me like that?
Fine. *huffs off into a corner muttering mean things about jack-in-the-boxes*