Of laziness and California rolls

This morning was the first time I've slept in since January. What a great day to be a bum.

I sauntered down the stairs at Wheneverifeellikeit:15 AM after scrounging up some clothes that I deemed fitting for a bum such as myself to lounge in. I hadn't really worn comfortable clothes in a while, either. I got on the compy, did my usual morning routine on the internet and such, and then decided I was going to get some lunch. I searched the fridge: nothing. I'm always convinced that there is nothing to eat in the house when I know that my mom is going to be making a commissary run soon. After searching my pantry for something that wasn't a month-old bag of Doritos, I discovered some California rolls in my fridge. How had I overlooked them? Of course, the better question would have been "How long have these been here?"

I sat down in front of the TV, almost proud of the fact that I was about to delve into a monotonous world of Seinfeld reruns and episodes of The Dog Whisperer. God, I love Cesar Milan. I was also about to delve in what had suddenly become a rather exciting lunch idea.

Like I said, I had no idea how long those California rolls had been in the fridge. Thinking back now, they may have been there for a good two weeks. I ate one and tried not to gag. I ended up spitting it up into the trash, where the rest of the California rolls found their final resting place. I rinsed my mouth out and tried not to vomit any further. Luckily, I kept whatever I did accidentally swallow down and I didn't throw up. God, that was nasty.


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