2004-08-11..9:08 a.m.

You know how I enjoy my grapefruit in the morning? You know how I kind actually brag about the fact I even have grapefruit in the morning, because I enjoy it THAT MUCH? I think I need to stop that. Because all my grapefruity boasting kind of came back and bit me on the ass this morning. My grapefruit was no thing of beauty, more just a Thing. From the Little Shop of Horrors. Without Audrey to croon about it, or Seymour to get all mopey about it not loving him. There was no doo-wopping gaggle following that grapefruit around, because if there had been, I would have heeded their words and stayed away. I wouldn�t have even looked in its general direction, perhaps preferring to wear sunglasses to avoid the glare. I would not have put it near the window for sunlight. I would not have fed it. And if it had asked for blood, I�d have chucked it into the alley and told it to get lost. It was slightly mushy on the top, and smelled a little less like grapefruit and more like a plastic bag, but being the unsqueamish-when-it-comes-to-mould kind of girl who hasn�t yet learned she can just throw things away when they start to go off without the Rampaging Mother Guilt setting in, I thought, meh I�m sure it�s fine. It was not.

That�s all I�m going to say on this subject.

****meeep