Kissable Sentences

My brother read and approved of my little blog about Continental. Especially flattering as he was my muse. A 6'2", 250 lb., farting muse.

So, a couple weeks ago I hung out in the city after work. I didn't feel like going home, so I grabbed some high-sodium food from the Value Menu at Wendy's, and sat and wrote for a while. Then I wandered down to the Prudential Center to see if there were any nice journals at the bookstore. I love journals. It's always my hope that I'll have experiences worthy of the beautiful blank book I'm buying. I found none that inspired me, none that made me want to have beautiful, book-worthy experiences... except the expensive leather ones. So that's what I got. It felt like an investment in my future, an act of faith, a declaration that my future deserves such a book.

By the time I'd bought it and done some more writing, though, I was pretty dehydrated. The last thing I'd eaten was French fries, and my lips were getting a little raw. They tasted like salt and blood. And I thought, "Oooo, My lips taste like salt and blood. That's a cool sentence!" Then I thought, "My mom won't like that sentence. She'll think it's gross. And she thinks I downplay my beauty too much, and this isn't going to make anyone want to kiss me." And I also thought, "Maybe men will want to kiss me because I write cool sentences! Maybe they'll say, 'Wow, salt and blood! I'm drooling at the thought of the female brain that wrote that sentence."

What do you all think? Salt and blood may be gross, but writing about them is totally hot.

Uh, right?