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I love hearing from readers, not as much as I love wine, but a VERY close second!

Thanks!

Gingivitis may not kill, but soup does. For real. SOUP IS A SILENT KILLER. Warn your loved ones.

Waiting to die is sort of anticlimactic, don’t you think? I mean you wait for that big moment where you walk towards the light, but then bam you’re dead and it’s over.

I’m waiting to die right this very second. It’s nothing serious like cancer, or swine flu. I cooked dinner. Like from a recipe, not a box. There was nothing pre-packaged about this meal, which is why I’m waiting to die.

I’m certain I gave myself food poisoning. Sure, a little case of food poisoning doesn’t kill the normal person. But I’m not normal. I’m an overachiever. Not for the important things in life like education, career, hobbies or a relationship. I’m an overachiever at shit that doesn’t matter. Dental floss for example.. I’m a crazy overachiever when it comes to Gingivitis. And you know what they say: where there’s a will, there’s a way.

See what I did there? I made a little death pun. You know, because death is anticlimactic AND funny. Right? Ahh, fuck it. You’re going to feel bad you didn’t laugh when I’m dead. Jerks.

Comments

  • Oh my trembling heart! You have given your old chum dumpster quite a scare indeed, my love!

    Ach! Cruel winds of regret bale through my gutturals. Had only I been able to keep your frail, frequent-flossing phalanges from feasting upon that food filled with festering phyla and fever-inducing fumes! To keep my lovely little lady from sipping upon the soup of death! Would that I had chugged ten buckets of hot chicken blood, and warred with then thousands of salmonellan soldiers, had it spared you of this fate. O! Regret, thy name is Jangle, and thy tears flow steadily. Forgive me.

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