I tried to eat a pop-tart for brekkie, and my stomach crossed his arms (metaphorically speaking) and refused to eat it. Apparently he’s tired of my shit. I’ve been eating on the run all week. Soo, here’s what HE insisted I eat. Gotta admit, it does look tastier than the pop-tart.
Note** I wondered why I wrote metaphorically instead of hypothetically and looked it up..Damn! My brain be working without me..am I the only one this happens to?