Did you ever just spill your guts to someone? Vomit the whole thing of it right on the table for everyone to see? I did. “Here you go! In case there were any questions, let me make it perfectly clear.”

I’ve always envied those who tout an iron stomach – just able to swallow anything – down the hatch – digestable. Nope, not me. If something doesn’t agree with me, doesn’t sit well, there’s no bones about it, we’ll be seeing it again sometime real soon.

I’ve always wanted to be more stoic. I keep on attempting to build a protective layer around myself and my heart, but by god, I’m a perpetual humpty dumpty, smashing off the fence, cracking open for a sing song while all the king’s horses and king’s men come and attempt to repiece my precious shell.

Forever an open book. Heart stamped on sleeve. I can’t decide if it’s good or bad. Right now it feels kind of bad. I’m about one dollarama trip away from purchasing some crazy glue for these loose lips. “Loose lips sink ships.” That was once on a poster at my office during some internal bullshit re government corruption and scandal – long story – but what a concept, eh? Shut your yapper, Dennis.

Also, I for real swallowed a bone the other night during dinner, which got me thinking about a couple of things. “Maybe I should go vegan again after all? Maybe this is a sign?” AND, what happens to bones post ingestion? How seriously hard does the HCl go to town on those things? Can I expect to be seeing this bone again, if you know what I’m saying?


I think the moral of this discombobulated story is to shut up lest your loose lips lend to bone swallowing and barftown bonanza. I talk too much, tell too much, and whoa is me (sp?) feel too much.

Open wide, CYD, time for your chill pill.