Waiter/Mom/Person, name you forgot and are too embarrassed to ask again:
How would you like your eggs?
The starving/Mommy’s boy/Planning to dine and dash:
I’d like my eggs…
- Scrambled like the people unprepared for a fire drill.
- In the shape of an egg but no traces of actual egg.
- Hot. On a plate, cold.
- I can’t have eggs until I reach level 98.
- Stabbed and left to bleed like a crime screen.
- I never ordered eggs…
- Chummy with a chance of meatballs.
- With its mommy. So me and my mom can bond on our date.
- Fully clothed.
- Sunny side defying gravity
- In an omelet.
- Fluent in Shakespearean insults
- To disappear.
- Perfect, or off with your head!
- Tan, AKA deep-fried.
- Smushed as if it were stepped on by the stampede at the doors of Wal-Mart.
- Dyed; Hidden by an Easter bunny in the forest; eggs containing either candy or money, preferably money, but unfortunately, beggars can’t be choosers.
Oh yeah, hurry it up wont’cha?
At 16, it is an upsetting idea to be told one of your eyes is picking up the slack of your other eye and eventually your bum-like eye will become a LAZY bum-like eye. Being told your right eyes is near-sighted and the left is far-sighted only makes you wonder at what angle is best to hold your book or stare at clouds. Discomfort rises when being told your left eye is an oval shape while our other is the “normal” eye shape. And to place the cherry on top of the travesty occurring to your eyeballs, it seems that your left eye has been plagued by astigmatism, and only the left.
The only positive with having to wear a monocle is finally possessing an opportunity to wear my fake mustache.
As your left eye is affected by numerous disabilities, the right eye just sits in its socket, laughing maliciously as it gains more and more control. You attempt to be of assistance to your left eye by wearing specs, when what you should actually be wearing is a monocle. Yet to end this parade of humiliation, we adorn ourselves with specs, those damn specs…
They deserve the spotlight via ode.
Have you have gotten to the point in your life where you want to start looking “pretty”? Your starting line, I like to call ‘desperation‘.
- Get the oo’s & ahh’s
- Cute shoes compliments
- Is that fake?..It must be fake…
- What a..unique face
- The pointed fingers at your direction
- Camera flashes in your direction
- Close up facial analyzations
- Special feature on the Yahoo news slideshow
- Potato sack full of compliments, give or take a few spuds
- The acceptance of our *FINGERS CROSSED* one day zombie society
Take a bath (reduce stress & stench). Take a picture with a collection of fuzzy animals. People think the creature is cute. You hugging cute organism, not too hard that you suffocate it
meaning go 100000 steps backwards, the cute fleas that were once attached to the animal are now on you. You have successfully “borrowed” its cuteness.
Now you are cute. Not Pretty. Advice: Its not pretty to settle. It means you are lazy. Pull out your “pretty”. Suggestions: For women some fake lashes, hair brush, and confidence. For men a toothbrush, muscles, cologne. (From where do you get all these ingredients? Internet or a run–of–the–mill robbery)
Take the objects your could obtain, use as directed, approach someone, and order them to satisfy your goals.
Being “pretty” is ugly to watch.
Sparkly. Big. Beautiful. With a history I’d rather not hear. Lets start out fresh. Natural. Smelly. In a good way though. Green with Chloroplasts that are near death. Ticking time bombs. Then the tree will be brown. Unwanted. On the curb. (which isn’t really that curby) Next to the trash can. Then nowhere in sight. Lasted only a month. Longest. Relationship. Ever.