Wednesday

Ran into Violet in the woods today. I demanded to know what she was doing skulking around the woods like a common polecat. “I could ask the same of you,” she hissed. And I was all, “Fuck you, I’M LACTOSE INTOLERANT!!" Our eyes locked in mutual suspicion, we slowly backed away from each other and bolted our separate ways. After a bit of laborious contemplation, I realize I should have dealt her the wages of sin on the spot, but it’s too late now. She is a simple sort, and further antagonism would only perplex her. Perhaps I’ll send her a box of those licorice candies she detests.

Quickly

Have noticed one of those dreadful Roombas sweeping through the guest rooms. Did not put it there, or, in fact, introduce it to my home in the first. Don’t know how it got in. Intend to dispatch the thing as soon as I locate a suitable firearm.

Topic Drift of the Future

If I ever have a crappy personal website instead of this awesome free blogspot website, I’m going to play this trick my readers: every time they click on something in my menu bar, the website is going to go black. When the reader clicks on the “back” button, they’ll get a recipe for black-bean hummus. Then, when they write me peevish e-mails about my lack of content, I will write back “Yes, yes, I know black-bean hummus isn’t real hummus.” Christ, I’m not that stupid.

Plans, Vol. 1

People keep asking me if I’ll be blogging from the Republican National Convention, and the answer is yes, I will be blogging from the Republican National Convention, if by “blogging from the Republican National Convention” you mean “showing up at the Xcel Center with a Power Bar and a briefcase full of Jesse Helms EVPs on tape.” If I can’t sell them there, I can’t sell them anywhere. Of course, I’ll probably spend some time walking behind conventioneers, stepping on their heels so their feet come out of their loafers. When they turn around to see who deshod them, I’ll quickly hand them a kitten and run like hell in the other direction. Then they’ll be stuck outdoors with a kitten, because you can’t bring kittens inside the Xcel Center. Believe me, I’ve tried.

That Best Portion

One thing I hate is when people ask if I cook. No, I do not cook, ever, and it’s not because I can’t. It’s because I prefer to have other people do that sort of shit for me. This is also why I do not change linens, recycle, phone people on their birthdays, pour tea, or pick papers off the floor unless they are banknotes.

That best portion of a good man’s life;
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love. -Wordsworth

Oh, fuck off.

What?

I was recently taking care of some solemn business when I said to myself, “Why engage in such business? It is beneath you.” God’s foot! It was like a mighty light went on in my head, shorting out the widget that transmits thoughts to my mouth mechanism via fiber optic cable. I immediately ceased all action and took to drink.

At any rate, that was weeks ago, the schnapps cupboard is bare, and my laundry is still in the washer.