Splashed
Why is it that every time I accidentally splash water, it all flies directly into my crotch area? It is perturbing. Excuse me if I want to be sanitary and wash my hands or clean a dirty dish. For some odd reason water has this pent-up angst towards me, and it never fails to make its point by giving me a wet patch right where I don’t need one. Then of course I have to be all discreet about it, or attempt to make some joke like, “Well, looks like I’m not quite ready to wear big-kid pants after all!” And no amount of “wiping down” takes care of the problem. It’s basically one of those stupid things I have to wait out. But the whole time I’m thinking, “Just you wait, water. I am so going to enjoy the next time I get to use the commode.”
Another question I’ve been pondering is the role of pineapple. For some reason pineapple has been deemed worthy of inclusion in non-sweet dishes such as pizza and stir-fry. Why does everyone just accept that as a standard reality? You might as well put strawberries or grapes in your stir-fry. Or hey, how about a scrumptious slice of blueberry pizza? Man, forget that. Just because we added Hawaii as an official “state” doesn’t mean we need to put pineapple on everything to show our acceptance. Look, there’s nothing wrong with being a key part of various cakes and ice creams. So come on, pineapple, know your role.
