The other day I inhaled a bug. Breathing oxygen is a cinch, but breathing bugs isn’t so easy. Apparently, you also aren’t supposed to inhale cereal dust, wood shavings, or floating dog hair. Who knew?
Inhaling has become especially difficult lately thanks to my cold. Or should I say thanks to my cousin who gave me my cold? My cold is really inconveniencing the heck out of my life right now. I don’t really feel sick, but I can’t donate plasma and I can’t do P90X, and it would be a shame to quit after three days.
P90X will make me stronger, supposedly. Could be false advertising. But I would really like to be stronger. I have weak little legs, and tiny arms that can only lift newspapers and the occasional book. I’d like to be able to perform amazing feats of strength, like throwing pianos filled with lead to the top of a third-story building or beating Betsy Reeves in an arm-wrestling competition. I will look less scrawny and malnourished and more healthy and super-strong. Like this:
And then I will finally be a superhero.
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