Okay, so last night I couldn’t sleep and I think I know why. It was from the egg under my bed.
I stumbled across an old mexican tradition of taking a regular egg – the kind that shoots out of a chickens anus – and rolling it all over your body head to toe then cracking it open under your bed while you sleep. It supposedly gets rid of evil eye that someone hexed you with. To hex someone with evil eye, you have to ogle them for long periods of time without touching them. I also read that the egg can cure sickness and wondered that because I felt perfectly fine, it would have the opposite effect on a healthy person – but I quickly put that thought out of my head because I’m aware that I suffer from outrageous irrational fears.
“The egg can only make me better. That’s a more rational statement.” I pondered to myself while puffing on my french pipe flavored electronic cigarette.
I taken off my clothes and sensually rubbed myself up and down with a cold egg fresh from the fridge. It was probably the sexiest thing I’ve done with myself all year.
I cracked the egg open, put it in a big blue glass mug and taken the “before” pic. I put the egg under my bed and tried to sleep. I kept saying over and over to myself “don’t forget there’s an egg under your bed, please don’t forget there’s an egg under your bed.” My fear of forgetting about the egg and letting it fester there to rot kept me tossing and turning, picking at my cuticle’s and making disastrous hangnails I couldn’t stop thumbing.
At four in the morning I blogged. At five in the morning I attempted sleep which is nearly impossible after writing. I feel like I’ve only gotten 2 to 3 hours of sleep total. I kept thinking about what my egg would look like in the morning. I wanted it to turn black so I could write up an awesome blog post about it. Unfortunately it didn’t do anything.
I’m sitting in Cheshire coffee with Kristina, Brie and Holly. Brie just left but it’s still really hard to concentrate with them jabbering away.
Kristina- “Are there free refills for green tea?” “What paint sticks to plastic?”
She’s still talking. She stood up to refill her green tea, but now she’s standing up still talking.
Holly – “If it’s the bottom part of the wine glass, nobody will notice there’s a streak. It will be easier for you.”
I have no idea what they’re talking about. Why do I drift off? I do it so easily, WTF?
I have to put this blog away.