Sometimes, you just gotta jump up and down on your bed in your underwear while rocking out to some George Michael tunes.
This is not one of those times.
Sometimes, you just gotta stack some tupperware, I mean really stack that shit, like, you gotta go get a folding chair from the other room and stand on it in order to stack some more tupperware.
This is not one of those times.
Sometimes, you just gotta recite some random numbers while snorting a line of cocaine off the foot of a Belgian prostitute.
This is not one of those times.
Sometimes, you just gotta swoop in and save the day at the last minute, like a Peruvian.
This is not one of those times.
Sometimes, things shake out in just such a way that when you stub your toe and trip and start to fall, your nostril catches on a protruding nail and...well, the rest of that story is not so pretty.
This, however, is not one of those times.
Sometimes, you just gotta drink some milk.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is one of those times.
And now it's not. That was some refreshing milk, though.
Oh, and one other thing.
Do you ever feel like your life is some sort of bizarre film noir? Like, you do something completely uneventful like going to the deli, and before you know it, someone is narrating your every action, only you can't see them, or maybe you can, and then the world goes all black and white, or maybe sepia, and guy at the deli counter has a perplexing moustache and says something that sounds like it could have been in a Bob Dylan song? And then...oh...um...hang on, I kinda lost my train of thought there...seemed like I had something to say about Italy...hrm...oh well, I guess it couldn't have been that important.
Wait! I've got it! And then you ask for some thinly sliced turkey breast! And the guy at the deli counter says, "Sure thing!" and then you get your thinly sliced turkey breast, and suddenly things are all normal again!
I had one of those days.
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And then the guy at the deli asks if you want your turkey sexi or with someone's hand up its puppeting ass.
ReplyDeleteYou know, I was just like, "Oh, I'll check up on Ryan's blog...see what he's up to," and then I came here, and--
I had one of those getting bitch slapped by a 75year-old man who's in nothing but a diaper and told he was going to cut my "fucking throat". I asked, "With what?! They took everthing out of your room, mister." And he finally sat on the bed, and quiety surrendered to an EKG while I let him ponder my suggestions:
"With your water pitcher?"... "No, that's too messy..." "With your bedpan?" "Lady? You think I wanna throw my own shit at you? Hell, I'd throw someone else's. My shit's too good for you!"
I could barely keep a straight face enough to play along with the poor little guy.
This, this is Ada-Scarlett's day, and that blog was cute, and I can smell whiff of George Carlin's dead body steaming from this entry.
Good day.