today i was informed that inside of me is a tiny ship, run by sailors who occasionally get a little rowdy and form a mutiny against the captain.
hm.
as soon as i heard the word "sailors", i of course thought of semen
which lead my little train of thought to a most mysterious stain found on my jeans when examined under blacklight.
what am i, a four year old?
why are you talking to me about pirates when i came to you to ask for advice about stress?
i am trying to take your analogy seriously. really, i am.
but in all honesty, if there are any sailors left on my ship,
they are probably all dead.
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