On Costco pizza, my nose, and other generally unimportant subjects.

...Well, apparently my sister is going to somehow get blisters on her tummy...at least that's what she's screaming right now with the vocal effect of a thousand howling hyenas. Its not pleasant. Ahh! She has been silenced and is now being taken to a far off realm to correct her unfortunate condition. My mom just worked her magic. Again. Aren't moms just about the best invention ever? I don't know what I would do without mine. I'd probably be more insane than I already am. If you can imagine that. Hmmm on second thought, lets forget the whole imagining thing because I doubt its healthy for your standard, normal brains.

And now for a discourse on Costco pizza. For me, Costco pizza is a ongoing and never-ending debate. I just cant figure out whether I actually like it or not. Some people love it; others, not so much. I have had it described to me as a cheesy heaven and have also had people who say that its only use is as a spare tire for one's car if one gets a flat. I think I'm somewhere in middle. I mean, it definitely tastes good, but I will grant that its texture is oftentimes awful. I eat it, and its both scrumcious and disgusting at the same time. Its kind of like food from MacDonald's. So, I guess you could say that the Costco pizza is the equivalent to the fast food burger.


Up next is my nose. Its so incredibly inconveniently large. Aside from the obvious woeful effects it has on my face, its always getting in the way. That's what really bothers me. Things are always bumping it or getting bumped by it, that honestly it is a wonder to me that it still bears roughly the same shape that a nose should. There have been countless instances when my hand has been caught on it whilst trying to make the Sign of The Cross. My theory is that its greedy for attention. I mean look at it. There it is, huge and obnoxious, right smack in the middle of my head. Its probably jealous because my forehead, belly button, and shoulders get so much attention during church. Thank goodness I don't go to the Trinatine Right very often because my nose would probably be screaming bloody murder by that point, just as all my aching arm muscles do from making the Sign of the Cross 42 times over the course of the mass. Oh, and the other day at dinner my despicable nose grabbed ahold of my fork as it was in its downward decent toward my mouth laden with mashed potatoes. I am almost sure it was because he wanted them. I wish I could fire him and hire a new one, but he seems slightly attached to his job and I don't want to make him quit because it might hurt his feelings. That's the problem with bad noses; they're like bad relatives: they're quite permanent and you just cant seems to get rid of them. Here's to hoping my greedy nose will start behaving himself because I just dedicated a whole paragraph to him. (I still cant believe I actually did, but whatever. The truth will come out sometime, so what's the use in trying to hide it? I talk to my nose.)

Oh, and something happened earlier that totally made me flip. I have no idea why, but it did. Don't laugh. Anyway. I was reading Emma today and I came across the Jane Austen quote in my precious gum packs that I told you about awhile ago. "One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other." I don't know why, but I thought it was so cool.

And I've been meaning to post a writing prompt that I did awhile ago for a writing contest, so here it is:


"So it turned out that reading my sister's diary was a mistake. Here I am, now sprawling, now curled-up upon her bed. My thoughts are like a shipwreck scene from one of those old cinemas Dad used to make us watch; my only constants are muffled sobs, streaming tears, and an awful turning in my stomach.

When Dad died and she had had quit school to cover the bill for Mums, she had begun to guard her diary with an intense jealousy. So how could I have overcome my curiosity when I discovered it   unlocked on her quilt? I thought all I was going to find was the usual rot one finds in a single girl's diary, 'I adore so-and-so, but he never so much as looks at me' etc. But I was so wrong. Oh, how dreadfully wrong! She told us she had gotten a job, the job we had all been praying for, in downtown Dublin, but that was all a lie.

H--how could she have stooped to a level that low? And just for the money. I would've rather starved then for her to----  Oh, what am I to do? What can I do? To reveal would mean utter ruin; to conceal: a deep and endless guilt...."

Basically you had to start with the first sentence and then continue on for another 138 words. It had a 150 word limit. This is what I wrote, but it was over the limit by a lot, so I had to trim it down and try to patch it back together. I didn't win, but I wasn't really expecting to because this was the first thing I've done like this. Anyway. I like this version a ton better, so I thought I would post it. (and stop sniggering)

See ya,

-Thomas