you could get sick.
Second, a few weeks later, you could try to catch Walking Pneumonia at work, which is harder to catch than most diseases, because it keeps walking away, but then once you get it it's really hard to get rid of so I wouldn't recommend it. Lucky for me, I'm a runner.
Third, you could mess up the company rental car, or not have the money to pay for the parking garage, or coming back to pay the fifth dollar, you could startle the cashier while she's counting her money and that could just be the end of you.
Fourthly, there are always arguments with youth at the Cov.
Fifthly, you could have a heart attack trying to catch up with Jr. High youth playing freeze tag.
Or sixthly, you could get killed by the elders for playing with the tennis ball inside the church building.
Seventhly, you could get trampled by a cow at the PA farm show, or die fat and happy of a ice-cream induced food coma.
Eighthly, you could die of cold in Toronto, or die happy because the Curator of the Model Ships section of the AGO tells you amazing stories of ships that were snuck, carried, and sunk. Or you could die because Toronto is liberal and there are cannabis shops. Or because there are statues to Redcoats in prominent squares, and the locals might mistake you for an invading Fenian.
Ninthly, you could eat bad salmon. Or put craisins in your spaghetti (yum!).
Tenthly, you could get attacked by rioting youth on your way to work. Luckily the stones thrown were before I passed by. You could also die by driving the wrong way on a one way to avoid police barricades. They tell me you can die for being a white person in Back Maryland, but I haven't gotten shot at so far.
Eleventhly, you could make sexist comments to your housemates. Or take the car without asking. Or finish off the leftovers. Or leave a dish in the sink.
Twelthly, you could die spazzing over the possibilities of the future and your desire to be in eight places at once and do everything. Or there's the pressure of being a terrible friend and not responding to messages on time.
Thirteenthly, you could stumble across an illegal operation while looking for homeless people under a bridge.
Fourteenthly, you could break your face on the floor when you pass out because you are sick.
Fifthteenthly, you could die of awe over the awesomeness of the movie 12, or die because your roommate is trying to warn you, but you hear Russian coming out of his mouth, even though he is speaking English.
Sixteenthly, you could upset an ex with a youtube video.
Seventeenthly, you could stick with protocol and refuse to tell a parent whether or not their child is currently in the building.
Eighteenthly, you could talk to strangers in elevators.
Nineteenthly, you could try to slide/drive to Philly in the 6am snow and ice. (If you have a good housemate, he'll talk you out of this one.)
Twentiethly, you could write unprofessional messages to your boss.
Twenty-firstly, one could undertake pains to wrongly split infinitives.
Twenty-secondly, one could put your hands in your jacket while being searched by an overzealous policeman on your way to the library. Cops don't like hippies with purses.
Twenty-thirdly, you could walk to work in a blizzard and...I still haven't figured out what could have happened.
Twenty-fourthly, by pool stick.
Twenty-fifthly, you could die because you run out of money. This is what my brain tells me. However, I think it's actually food and air and water that you need. Still though, money is annoying, and it feels like it could kill you.
Twenty-sixthly, unrequited love?
Twenty-seventhly, and lastly, a poet-aster must always be wary of the grammar police, pun haters, rabid fans, and his own dramatic hubris. Alas, it's a dangerous business entering the blogosphere...especially when you don't continue your previous to be continued. Oh wells. Don't hate the player, hate the game??
