Someone recently told me my blog wasn’t as cool as some other blog because I had fewer pictures. When the last tissue had soaked up the last of my tears I frantically sorted through my many folders of photos. Here are some. Am I cool now? Is my blog cool now?
The Guy Across the Street is in his kitchen, looking out at traffic. His giant penis – sorry, TV – is broadcasting golf. The way the daylight is shining, the talking heads on the TV look like life-size people in his apartment. Maybe he did the math and realized it would be cheaper to buy a big TV and have life-size people talking to him than it would be to go out and actually meet real live people who might want to talk to him. Or maybe he likes having the option of turning them off. Sometimes I wish I had that option on my People Remote Control.
I can’t belch. Never have been able to. My cousin once belched the alphabet and I was very jealous. My dad can belch but he never taught me how. And now I fear it is too late to learn.
The catt hid under the coffee table last night, scared of all the party voices but not scared enough to go to another room. People enticed him from beneath the table using kibbley kitty treats and fingers smeared with hummus. Today, the catt is five pounds heavier and he has no problem belching.
Sometimes you don’t know how much you want something until it’s on your finger, speaking to you in a gravelly voice, telling you to shape up, be nice, wear clean socks and give away your excess possessions. I am ever so glad it’s saturday because the voice is really scaring me.
So I watched The Making of America’s Next Top Business Shark this morning while I ate my breakfast cupcakes. Not sure if the Shocker everyone was referring to in this episode was the unleashing of the rabid homophobe or the equally pathetic performances on the task. Either way, the guy with the body wash on his face totally belongs in the Archive of Inadvertant Bukkake.