I’m 24. As David so charmingly put it, in a couple of years from now I’ll be Christmas fruit cake (nobody wants them after the 25th, har har).
In two separate conversations with entirely different people, I have inadvertently used an invented abbreviation – “boxin” – when I really meant to use “botox”. I’m not sure why botulism would have entered my conversation enough to warrant that sort of thing. It’s not like I plan biological warfare – or cosmetic surgery, for that matter.
On an entirely different note, my dreams have been getting more and more weird and surreal. I can’t remember last night’s (repressing, as usual), but I still vividly remember an image from one a couple of weeks ago – laboratory mice dissolving into puddles of goo inside little dark cages, pouring out into my hands.
Just a little insight into my twisted psyche, folks. Nothing to see here.
