2001-09-29 - 11:49 p.m.
in the words of james, twisted around by me, "my stomach is trying to drill out of my body."
tis true, dear readers. i think i am dying by way of my stomach drilling out of my body. it hurts like a banschee. intense waves of pain that make me want to cry. hopefully i'll be alright and not end up writhing on the floor in pain, dying beside the phone while trying to call 9-1-1.
maybe it was something i ate.
sorry..this is undesirable reading material, huh?
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i have his shirt on. i can smell him.
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oh yeh...paper shredder/hand incident of 01. i was at work...working...obviously. emptying the trash [lucky me]. emptying the can with the shredder on top. i had to move the shredder to get out the bag. little did i realize, the shredder was still plugged in. little did i realize, my hand was hovering over the 'shred' button. i grabbed the shredder to move it and
"WHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
"my hand! my hand! the pain!"
||falls on floor||
"my hand! the floor! don't you ever clean it?! the pain!"
ok, so that was a bit exaggerated. but my point is, i did accidentally turn on the shredder and my hand was near the shredding...thing. i could've chopped off my opposable thumb.
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MY STOMACH! ARGH.
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if i die before i write another entry, i want my fish, sid vicious and moe rocca, to be sent to a loving home. thank you.
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||blah.|||