bronchitis
So, it turns out I don't have whooping cough. I have bronchitis. Yay! It even comes with a sexy, raspy voice. Fun stuff, these lung inflammations!
I'm scarily watching American Idol again. Fuck, I'm getting addicted. This is like, three episodes in a row now. I just can't turn away from that car-accident-like appeal. Some of these kids are actually pretty good though.
Is it weird that when I see a full, tied trashbag on the side of the freeway, I often imagine that there's a dead body, or at least parts of a dead body, inside? You never know what's in those things...they could be there for awhile before the community servicers come and pick that shit up. Someone could, theoretically, attempt to dispose of a body in that manner, doncha think?
Hey, wanna get me something for Valentine's Day? How about some candy?
posted by Busty Wilde at 8:57:00 PM
7 Comments:
real axe murderers use fifty-five gallon drums or tupperware containers. even a hefty tri-liner bag won't handle the bulk of a body.
/bw
Okay, well, what about body parts? I'm sure a big trashbag could carry an arm or something, right?
maybe that of a peeled-off face that you hacked up while high on angel dust?
Oh, like if I cut off my own face? If I did that, I wouldn't throw it on the side of a freeway, I'd feed it to a dog, duh.
or serve it up with a good light soup on some fine white china with a side of fava beans and a nice chianti
I just wouldn't tell you what it was, because then you probably wouldn't want to eat it...
"it tastes like chicken"
/bw
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