Are being verbs no longer necessary? Can we just say, I.E. "it cool" or "they drunk" now? Dude, epic. Now I can save a whole 10 seconds texting!

Catapult of Instant Awesome. Are they real? If so, I need one. BADLY.

PLEASE SCROLL DOWN BECAUSE MY SIDEBAR IS A JERK.

Why I'm scared of myself.... the picture!!!

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please don't think any less of me.

hey.

Why I am scared of myself

It's so weird, isn't it, to be scared of yourself?
I mean, you could totally blank out and the next second you're at the driver's seat of a stolen car while your cousin is firing a gun he bought on eBay at the several cars that are in hot pursuit of you because the person you stole the car from called the cops from the trunk, and then one of the car's wheels blew out and I'm there, in the middle of this, freaking out because I don't remember how I got there, but more importantly I don't even have a permit yet.
May have gotten a little specific there, anyway, I can sometimes scare myself.
As you may or may not know, I'm down with a sinus infection as I type this. Last night I took a legitimate amount of NyQuil before going to bed a while later.
Some people on Skype that night probably would disagree with that statement, because the NyQuil messed me up instead.
This morning I woke up on my couch....

 Today's first words were, "Matthew Perry?".
Apparently last night the guy who played "Chandler" from the sitcom "Friends" had walked out of my closet whistling a hearty showtune, while I watched in fear from under my covers, because that's what I saw on my computer screen when I woke up. I had whispered "please don't hurt me," and he started screaming "Gravy Cheese" as he beat me over the head with a toy train. Also, scrawled in blood on my closet were the words "My closet fun stuff open". But that's normal.
To top it all off, there was a glowy bottle of NyQuil which was saying "I struggle to be a cylinder, but that's okay because nobody ever uses me 330 days of the year."
Anyway, I'm debating on actually posting this picture. What do you guys think? Ask your friends too, I'd love more readers.

In the waiting room at the doctor's office. Where do you get off squinting at me from behind your glass panel, weird lady?! Me is offended.

This is why I will be forever grateful for sneezing.

Because the sidebar is being rude, I'm going to have to ask you to scroll on down.

How's your day been?

That's nice.

How's Debby?

Wonderful!

Hey, have you seen The Green Hornet yet?

DUUDDDDEEE JEALOUS.

I wanted to go see it but my brother had a ballet recital.

Yeah....

Those are my fish,

the Fischers.

They're really friendly.

I don't feed them as often as I should....

You can just click the water

and food just magically appears.

You can go ahead and feed them as much as you want.

That's where my tweets usually go....

like, all the time.

Dang, I got too much sidebar, huh?

Yep.

Oh, hey, there's my bio.

Wow, there's not much there, huh?

I should probably do that sometime.

Anyway....

Enjoy.

Sleepwalking: Most Definately Lethal.

As a child, one of my favorite lunches was spagghettios with sliced franks. I was a bring-your-own-lunch kid until Mom got a job as the person who places orders for the school corporation. I had a lame paper sack with a smiley face and my name scrawled onto the side. Inside there would be chips, a sunny delight, a cookie/little debbie, and a thermos-bowl of spagghettios.

As you can tell I will ramble a lot in my blog, so I can say funny things and also make each post longer.
Anyway, spaghettios.
It was my favorite lunch food. One night I had gotten sick after leaving my window open all night (another story) and had to stay home from school for a few days.
When I'm sick, I usually don't eat much at all. Even as I'm typing this, I've been sick since Friday and I haven't eaten dinner, my breakfast has been a granola bar, and my lunch, also a granola bar. But when I was little, my stomach decided that my brain was stupid for doing that sort of thing and took over for the night.

 Seriously....

 

And so she made me spagghettios, before coming to the realization that I was sleepwalking. She must've remembered that I had refused to eat much all day, or she probably would've sent me off to bed immediately.

Later that night....

 

"Go back to bed."

"Hughgehefggsfhdns!!!"

....and that's the day I found out what the inside of my stomach smelled like.

  

A trip to the doctor's office the next day confirmed that I had a stomach virus-I should have eaten as little as possible. Anyway, don't ever try to open ANYTHING with a butcher knife in the dark while asleep, kids.

Preview of next week's blog:

Preview of Next Week's Blog.

WHY CONSUMING SILVERWARE IS BAD.

 OKAY.
This is where I am right now:

That's where I am, so bear with me as I journey up the magical staircase into blogging fame. And I have the feeling it will be a rather lengthy journey.

So tell your friends about ScrambleThemEggs.
Anyway, on with my first story.
When I was a child, I was fairly curious.

But my curiosity never really extended beyond what I could fit in my mouth (which, in a future blog, will be seen as a life-saving quality)

                          Aren't I just a little bundle of pure, concentrated cute?
As soon as I started making sense of the world around me, (age: 2) I realized that I ate a lot of things and never got hurt!
I felt like I had some crazy superpower.

I'm going to stop you there and say I lost all that weight, and the need to put things in my mouth, when I was in second grade.

Anyway, superpower. I decided to step up my game in Kindergarden after my grandpa showed me a video of a circus man sliding swords down his throat.
This is how it played out in my mind, I think,

But what would I possibly need a knife in my butt for, you ask???
Well, I don't really know. But it sounded cool. Maybe, in my head, it played out like this:

I really, really have no clue.
......later I changed my before-night-night-time vigilante's name to "The Death Bee" and started working for the King of the US's Secret Service.
Anyway, so there I was, seeing my future as a superhero who could pull weapons out of his body, while my mom was asleep after a long day at work. The perfect opportunity!

But then, who should arrive but the very woman who was stopping by for dinner. And with that aside, she was a very responsible person who likes to crush her grandchildren's childhood ambitions.

The Devilwoman actually told my mother about me playing with a knife!
Not only did Mom stop trusting me, but I just earned myself no more playdates with friends FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK!!!!
NOT FAIR AT ALL.
...also that's the day i became socially awkward.

Anyway, now I know that trying to swallow a knife is a bad idea.