I don't like potatoes. I mean, I *will* eat french fries, but only under protest.
I am afraid of pedicures. Not only do I not enjoy having people touch my feet (vomit), I am dealthy afraid of picking up some scary toenail-falling-off disease. Also, I don't like when people talk about me in other languages.
I am not a shoe person. I'm serious. If you offered me a pair of beautiful red-bottomed shoes, I'd probably return them to buy some sweet camera equipment.
Sometimes I say LITERALLY when I don't actually mean LITERALLY.
So, I found a toothbrush under the sink in my bathroom.
It was black. I couldn’t remember ever buying a black toothbrush. I smelled it, and it didn’t smell minty or bubble gummy. It maybe, possibly, if you held it at the right angle, looked unused.
And then I brushed my teeth with it.
Now, before you go and judge me for using what might be someone else’s toothbrush or may very well have been sitting underneath that sink for the last 10 years….you must really understand the desperation of the situation.
