11.17.00
Today, while I was zipping up my coat to go outside, I decided to look down while doing so. In the process, I managed to catch my upper lip in the zipper, in effect "Zipping my lips".
This got me thinking about all of the stupid figurative things that people tell you to do and not do all the time, and I pondered the feasibility of being the person that does them all. That could be my new schtick. People would walk down the street and point at me saying, "Hey, there's Literal Girl!"
Don't keep all your eggs in one basket. Well, I don't happen to have any eggs on hand, and if I did I would most likely leave them in their protective carton.
Check.
Don't count your chickens before they hatch. I think we've previously established that I have no eggs and thus no potential chickens to not count.
Hell, I'm on a roll.
Speaking of hell, Go to Hell. I sometimes ponder as to whether or not I'm already there. Just in case Hell is actually less pleasant than Iowa City, I don't think I'm terribly interested in visiting anytime soon.
Take a hike. You know, I do already walk most everywhere, but I don't really enjoy it all that much.
Stick it where the sun doesn't shine. Ew, that's just painful and crass sounding.
And then my lip started to throb, and I decided to rethink this whole Literal Girl thing. Maybe it's not really my gig at all. People tend to say a lot more negatively-inclined figurative things than positive ones. And some of them really hurt, like zipping one's lips.
Instead, I have decided to go look for the Neosporin to put on my rapidly-swelling upper lip and go to bed.
Which I think is a good plan.
(Hitting the hay and all.)
