never light three cigarettes with one match: hell, i stopped smoking a long time ago, (that's if you deduct all the drunken moments when i've repeatedly declared, "ugh, i'm never smoking again.") so what is it: too many black cats crossing my path, hearing too many roosters crow at night, walking under too many ladders? am i obligated to sleep with four-leaf clovers, ringing bells, and horseshoe nails? whoever said bad luck comes in threes is accurate. not only did i become extremely ill this weekend, miss my trip to vegas, but i also chipped a filling due to masticating a dozen tic-tacs at one time. ha, five hours later, i found myself cuddled in a dentist's chair, reading a woman's health magazine, as i covered my freezing toe nails with an awkwardly used blue blanket. whoever expected to spend their monday afternoon this excitingly? not me. if a z-pack, augmentin, and a bundle of tears later wasn't enough, what about missing my stimulating trip to vegas? who would of thought? do i have to bless some sort of tub of salt, some element of water, in order for the powers of purity to be reverently eulogized? someone hand me the oil of frank-in-sence, so i can dab it on my broken mirror.
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