Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

I Wish ET Would Stop Making Me Burp

On the ride home on the bus this evening I belched so loud that all heads turned towards me. In a bus of fifty plus people. Trying to get off. In my defense I was yawning at the time and didn't really mean to rock the bus with my giant earthquake o' gas. I tried to look innocent and sometimes I am thankful for my sweet face and blond hair. That way people will believe that it was the guy next to me. Especially since he was the one blushing.

My evil twin Monica told me today that her boobs get bigger right before her period. We took a poll, this seems to be true for EVERYONE but me. Except Heather, she said "Mine are so big I wouldn't be able to tell," which made us laugh for hours. Oh and the men. Their boobs say the same size. But still! I feel cheated! My boobs are defective. Where can I return them? Seriously, where is that customer service counter. Because I am exchanging my boobs, upgrading my metabolism and I want a fucking refund on my thighs. There ought to be a swap meet of some kind at least. I am sure somewhere there is a chicken-legged woman who would love a little Anyabeth thigh. And those gals who want a breast reduction, you just reduce it my way sister. We would all be stunning in no time at all. Why is science wasting all this time on aerospace technology when they could spend their time on something interesting and useful.

Summary: other people get enlarged breasts with PMS, mine just hurt like a bitch. Oh, and rotate outward which just freaks my shit up every month. Are aliens controlling my boobies?

Maybe they are controlling my gastrointestinal issues also--making me belch like a sailor on public transportation.

At least that is the explanation I am going with.

6:55 p.m. :: comment ::
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