10:02am- In a moment of “why didn’t I think of that idea?” order tank top from friend’s hilarious t-shirt company, Mothership. Shirt has illustration of calculator on it with numbers, which if turned it upside down would spell “boobless.” Upon receipt, try it on and am stricken with breast cancer and rushed to hospital for mastectomy. Post-op, am only boobless for short time before I am then lifeless.
11:15am- Unsure exactly of how to make coffee for best friend with boyfriend’s even-mongoloid-stricken-monkeys-could-use-it coffeemaker, cause copious amounts of water to spill out sides of machine. Quickly pull out plug and then seeing I needed to seal top, seal top and plug cord back into wall. Electrocution.
11:16am- Afraid of electrocution from wet coffeemaker, plug plug back into wall and then jerk hand back involuntarily due to fear. Hand hits oversized wine goblet drying in dish rack. Goblet flies through air, lands in sink, sprays glass shrapnel into face and neck. Severed jugular.
1:14pm- Inspired by impending travel writing workshop at Book Passage, decide I have to be less shy and engage more strangers. When odd German inquires as to what my calculator tank top says, I indulge him by declaring, “Boobless!” He says (staring at ample bosom), “but I thought boobless means not having boob.” I attempt to explain concept of irony, but before that can occur he whisks me back to his rent-by-the-week studio apartment, strangles me and then sautés my boobs with butter and onions.
6:06pm- Have panic attack on way home from dropping best friend off at airport. Drive on angled, curving overpass and feel as if falling. Not only feel as if falling, fall.
6:10pm- After having Googled their physical whereabouts, go out of way to grocery store solely to buy Steak-umms. Purchase 5 boxes. Would have bought more, but am ashamed as is. Deliciously thin pressed meats combined with mixture of Velveeta and mozzarella cheese cause massive Ken-Lay-style heart attack.
6:45pm- Continuing with plan to talk to more strangers so I will make exceptional travel writer, get in discussion with check out clerk and fellow shopper about how too much water can actually kill you. Naive check out clerk is surprised. Then when fellow shopper says, “yeah, and I just saw that extra-strength Tylenol can cause uh, something bad,” I chime in with, “…your liver to fail,” and drop dead instantly from damage done from last one taken weeks prior.
Other than that, pretty good day.
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