Saturday, 10 January 2009

  • Currently
    Want
    By 3Oh!3
    I'm Not Coming To Your Party Girl
    see related

    The Sad Thing Is, The Diet Wasn't Even Mine

    So i'm in my bedroom. Happily sitting on my bed putting stickers on my cheeks and counting my toes, I'm having a good day so far. The sky is blue, I don't have any homework to do, and my mom was cooking. I could tell because i heard beeping noises coming from one of the many high-tech appliances in our kitchen. I got up, stood in front of my door and inhaled deeply through my noise...only to have my nose filled with a horrible stench.

    Was it burning rubber? I thought carefully. Dirty Socks? Plumbing problems? Gasoline smells from outside? No, none of those silly thing, but the only thing i was positive it wasn't was a nice apple pie. Or chocolate chip cookies. For sure not anything that human anyone with a brain would willingly eat.

    I went downstairs to further investigate. All I found was my mom carefully picking at her lunch in a plastic tray. The smell was getting worse. Oooh, I remembered. She started NutriSystem.

    "That smells horrible!" I exclaimed while sniffling. My mom just smiled at me.

    "It doesn't taste that great, either." She smiled slyly. She continued on eating that big load of crap. How can anyone willingly digest that? I thought in awe.

    "They should rename it IckySystem." I mumbled. She was now done with her lasagna, or pasta, or burger, or whatever it was. I came to realize they all smelled the same: like burnt rubber, soy, and dirty laundry all into one.

    I went through that torture so many days. The sad thing is, the diet wasn't mine. The even sadder thing is, that crap made me want to dry-heave.

    Luvfsz,

    Steph

    P.S Never, ever force any living creature into inhaling that stuff. Unless you absolutely hate that person and hope they go through extreme torture.

  • Choose Identity

  • Give eProps (?)

  • New! You can now edit your comments for 15 minutes after submitting.

Who recommended?