I used to boil my coffee to get the impurities

it and a millipede struggled back up my esophagus. Why did I always go to Mom's Diner, the greasiest spoon in New Jersey? Because Mabel was pouring the sludge and she had a smile

when she bent over that looked like Stewie Griffin. Me and my roommate would come down here, order pie and drop shit on the floor so she would have to pick it up. But once while

we were dropping things, we realized that she was a person too. It really affected us, and made us feel bad about the way we treated her. If only we knew her

at all. We'd been teasing her since she was about three and we were about twenty-seven, and we were only just beginning to realize she was getting traumatized by this. She was

becoming a seasoned brain bulimic to cope. She always kept a spork or similarly crude trephine in her pocket in case she needed to drain scarring memories, like when I called her a

month ago and told her she only had 10 days to live. That memory was long gone. The fact that she's still alive suggests that there may be some unexpected benefit to brain bulimia.

Throwing up inside of your own brain us usually fairly hard to accomplish however. It usually involves certain images from the internet or a surgical operation. Thank God

I don't HAVE to go on Omegle or read Cracked if I don't WANT to. Or look at people on Failbook. Or Cheezburger. Or 4chan. But the last time I threw up was on my fourth pregnancy,

and that was bc of all of the Shamrock shakes I ate. I admit, I have a slight obsession with Failbook and Tweeter, I mean if it's online it's true, right? What? OH THE HUMANITY!!!