In my day, everything came from my belly button and seat of the pants. Today, everything is done from research.
If I could have a Barbie body, which has no cellulite, I totally would. I would like to have a flatter stomach, but that won't happen either. That is never going to happen. No matter how much weight I lose, my stomach, below the belly button, always pooches out.
I don't think of God as an old white man with no belly button, nor even an old black woman with no belly button. But I agree that God is something eternal. Something cannot come out of nothing. I believe God is Everything. And I believe in infinity.
This is quite difficult 'cause I have a really flat head, and so it's quite difficult to get a correct angle. And you can't go up from down below as well, 'cause I've got, like, rock solid gelled hair. And so, like, it was odd. I don't know, sometimes I feel like my head is being, like, turned inside out. Like that episode of Ren & Stimpy when he's inside his own belly button. I don't know.
Unfortunately, every time someone said “debriefing,” the entire flock had one image: someone’s tighty-whities disappearing in a flash. We were smothering our giggles, but it was getting harder. Coupled with the whole “naval this, and naval that,” with its undeniable belly-button connotations, we were essentially turning into a sugar-jacked, sleep-deprived flock of incoherent, silly, recombinant-DNA goofballs. This was not going to end well.
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