Once, when I was in second grade, I ate the paste we were using to glue leaves to colored paper to make collages. What can I say? It smelled good and it tasted like unflavored jelly. But after lunch I didn't feel so good and ended up yuking all over the reading area in the back of the class.

Interestingly enough, my regurgitated paste puddle looked exactly like the scrote on the right.

What's up with that creepy-ass hand sliding down this hottie's neck? Have you ever seen a more awkward half-touch in your life?

Speaking of second grade, anyone remember those scented markers where purple smelled like grape and red like cherry? I used to get high on those fumes for hours. Hmm. Possible explanation for where I find myself today.