What is my fake addiction you ask? According to my crazy friends, I'm a sharpie sniffer. Yep, I can whip the cap off a sharpie in 1.2 seconds and have half the contents inhaled through my left nostril before you can say, royal blue proboscis. The running joke is: the end of my nose looks like rainbow skittles after a much needed fix. Their stories of my sharpie addiction keep getting more exggearated. Legend has it, I fought to the death with a little old lady for the last pack thin-tip sharpies at the dollar store. She could swing her walker like a pair of ninja numb chucks, left her false teeth stuck in my neck and kicked me several times with her rock-like orthotics. After the dust cleared, I managed to crawl away with one green sharpie in hand and a pair of false teeth on my neck. Victory was mine! Really folks, I don't need a sharpie intervention. I like to think that my sharpie whiffing is a form of artistic expression. Besides, I'm not breaking any laws. There are no D.U.I.S. (driving under the influence of sharpies) check points. Cops don't have a sharpie meter to measure how many colors of the sharpie pack I've actually been through. Don't hate! Don't forget, my favorite color is blue and shapries make great stocking stuffers. Tell Santa I've been a good girl!
No comments:
Post a Comment