Time on her hands and an America's Next Top Model marathon on the TV was a dangerous combination. The second bedroom had been nagging - nay, SCREAMING at her to get organized. Piles upon piles of paper mess had to be gone through, and things needed to be labeled, reorganized, and in some cases delicately removed WITHOUT the comfort of protective biohazard gear.
Armed with a diet coke, she tiptoed her way in. The room looked innocent enough, but behind those swinging white doors lurked the day project of terror. Faintly, she heard a trace of her only company in the background:
"Girrrrrrrrl, we got TYRAMAIL!!"
Inhale, exhale. It just COULDN'T be as bad as she thought, right? There was no way in except to jump in with both feet. She reached out, touched the handle, and flung it wide open.
"AIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"
****
Conclusion to follow. (???)
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5 comments:
Just SMIZE your way through those piles.
Nothing can stand in the way of a good SMIZE - even inanimate objects.
SMIZE! SMIZE!
I'm doing good, man. I'd be better if you could come on over here and tell me what "smize" means.
What kind of America's Next Top Model fan/watcher are you if you don't recognize Tyra's word "Smize"?
Smile with your eyes, Casey.
SMIZE!
OH, okay. Yeah, see, whenever ANTM is on, I'm usually puttering around the house. OR sick on the couch. Easy enough to miss a word like that.
SMIZE? Ugh. Why am I addicted to this show?
Smize: learn it and love it.
As for sticking with this show... I don't know. I just like seeing some people have their dreams smashed. And I still hope for the day where another model will have a wicked faceplant - the reason I got hooked on this show in the first place.
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