I Don't See Dead People But I Smell Things That Aren't Even There So I'm Kind of a Psychic. Or Part Dog. Hard to Be Sure
This morning my shower smelled like burned popcorn when I turned on the water and one time the break room at work smelled like moth balls and no one else smells these things but me so clearly my psychic abilities manifest themselves through my sense of smell and I channeled Orville Redenbocker in my bathroom this morning, the pervert.
These odd smell moments are fairly frequent and I'm tempted to self diagnose with Google but I know I'll find out I have a brain tumor and that's not good for my hypochondria or my preference to be alive and the last thing I need is a brain tumor what with the shingles about to break out at any time because I don't floss my teeth everyday. I also don't want to become Izzy Stevens making out with her dead boyfriend. Thank the Lord I don't actually have a dead boyfriend. Yet.
I wonder, since I'm a psychic, who my spirit guide is. I bet it's whoever smells like old ashtray because I smell that at random too. If I could put in a request I'd like Chris Farley because he'd probably be a kick ass spirit guide. You know who'd be a sucky spirit guide? Gary Coleman. I bet he'd be all bitter about the short thing AND early death so he'd probably try to possess me and force me to fulfill his unfinished business but he'd be all pissed because I'm super short too. No one would even know it's no longer me cuz sometimes I act *exactly* like a short angry black man.
By the way, I'm writing this from my new iPad 2, holla!
Oh, and I also got a new hairdryer that dries my hair in 2.3 seconds flat which is awesome and powerful and if I turn my head upside down the force of the jet engine inside the dryer gives me a quick face lift. Who needs Botox?
Also? My going off topic is part of my psychic ability. It's like I have to carry so many burdens at once these days; psychic smelling, probable future shingles, ADD, crow's feet, and plus I haven't gone shopping in days. It's all such a cross to bear.
These odd smell moments are fairly frequent and I'm tempted to self diagnose with Google but I know I'll find out I have a brain tumor and that's not good for my hypochondria or my preference to be alive and the last thing I need is a brain tumor what with the shingles about to break out at any time because I don't floss my teeth everyday. I also don't want to become Izzy Stevens making out with her dead boyfriend. Thank the Lord I don't actually have a dead boyfriend. Yet.
I wonder, since I'm a psychic, who my spirit guide is. I bet it's whoever smells like old ashtray because I smell that at random too. If I could put in a request I'd like Chris Farley because he'd probably be a kick ass spirit guide. You know who'd be a sucky spirit guide? Gary Coleman. I bet he'd be all bitter about the short thing AND early death so he'd probably try to possess me and force me to fulfill his unfinished business but he'd be all pissed because I'm super short too. No one would even know it's no longer me cuz sometimes I act *exactly* like a short angry black man.
By the way, I'm writing this from my new iPad 2, holla!
Oh, and I also got a new hairdryer that dries my hair in 2.3 seconds flat which is awesome and powerful and if I turn my head upside down the force of the jet engine inside the dryer gives me a quick face lift. Who needs Botox?
Also? My going off topic is part of my psychic ability. It's like I have to carry so many burdens at once these days; psychic smelling, probable future shingles, ADD, crow's feet, and plus I haven't gone shopping in days. It's all such a cross to bear.
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