It was a perfectly sunny morning in the Hundred-Acre Woods and the bright sunshine warmed the pleasant breeze as the –
Nah. I’m just kidding.
It’s early monsoon and it is perpetually humid and at least partly cloudy. Summer holidays end in two days and my sleep pattern is more reluctant than I am to go back to school. You could say I could hi-five a museum (when it comes to running, or just strolling, perhaps, behind time) if the museum was youthful enough to know what a hi-five was supposed to mean. Wouldn’t want to palm slap anyone, now would we? I woke up in the post meridiem and tried to think of something to think about that did not involve either orange or triangles. You see, glittery purple nail paint is really not my thing, though it has come to my notice quite recently that I can tolerate certain shades of glittery pink, which is more than I can say for my own hair when it decides to go and pick a squabble with that little joint connecting the nose and ears of my glasses (please know what I’m talking about).
When I failed rather miserably to distract myself from orange triangles, I decided that I needed an extra dose of contradictory puns so me logs onto tumblr to find a surplus.
Wait a second. I realized about two-quarters of a second ago that the paragraph I just wrote might come to eliminate an entire layer of people who might come to read this blog, much like a layer of cake with chocolate and whipped cream icing with a layer sliced off and thrown away. Ahhh no wait. I’ll have that. Thank you.
Let me now assure you that I normally don’t choose to talk about eating people, not even layered ones with icing.
Do come back and keep reading. I still love you. I might even let you have some of the whipped cream, okay?
Nah. “Joey doesn’t share foood!!”
T. E. Pyrus