Friday, November 25, 2005

Friday, November 18, 2005


I heard a "Woo!" from the Ladies room. Someone (a woman?!?!) made a "Woo!" in the Ladies room.

Someone's excited about something.

Here are the possibilities:

1) Someone is pregnant. They took a home pregnancy kit into the Ladies room, and used it, and found out that they have a child "on the way."

2) There is a dogfight going on in the Ladies room and someone's pitbull is winning. Some lady's pitbull has just torn the throat from some other lady's doberman.

3) Someone is not pregnant. They took a home pregnancy kit into the Ladies room, and used it, and found out they haven't got a child "on the way."

I will not blog until I know the truth! This I swear!

Tuesday, November 15, 2005


This is one day many of us will not soon forget, yeah?

Yes, this is one day many of us will not soon forget, I mean.

This is a day one and all of us should make sure to hold quite close and dear to each and every one of our beating—and sort of, by this, bleeding—hearts, as this is a day of mourning.

When it is, like this, a day that is—or qualifies to be—a day when all good and noble and true and honest and empathic people like you and me and them should hang down the heads we have sticking up off the ends of our necks—hang them down, you!—and cry tears for our dear and close and respected friend who has died.

He has died!

It is such a day, I say loudly and vigorously to you all. It is almost certainly such a day.

This gathered mass that you are but a single constituent part of, it is gathered to express feelings. The feelings are the sorts of unhappy feelings we all have inside us when something of a sad nature happens to happen. Like now.

And with the loss of our friend, we must hold on so very tightly to each and every other one of us! You, in the back! Come closer!

Hold tighter!

Hold tighter!

Frogger is dead! He was hit! Hit by a car! Trying to cross the road!

Hit by a car!

Hold tighter!

We met him only a little while ago, but he quickly became our friend. Oh, so quickly, it happened; he crawled deep inside of us, and found a comfortable and well-furnished and decorated home in our brain space. He lived with us, all the time.

He offered us a sympathetic ear. Always, he was willing to spend time on the telephones in his house, listening when we had something to say about something. It was like a pleasure for him, this listening that he did to us. It was like it was the least he could do, and often he would do more and even a lot more.

Hit by a red car!

Shame on the driver who paid so little attention!

Hold tighter!

This is an hour for some things, but not for others. Let us not cheapen this moment. Let us not make nothing of this hour by, say, leaving it to words on a flickering screen. Let's take these words to the streets—the blood-spattered streets!

Not to the screens. Only to the streets.

We can't blog about this. We must talk about this.

Hold tight.

Hold tighter.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005


I'm hot and it's really hot in here. It's really, really hot in here.

I should probably drink more water. Much more water. I need to stay hydrated when it is hot like this in here.

I should probably have at least, I don't know, maybe seven glasses of water a day when I'm in here, thinking about how to (but never really having a chance to) blog. I should drink more water, to keep all my cells full of water, and to not get too dry.

Did you know that if you don't have enough water, and you get dehydrated, your sweaters begin to pill? Did you know that's what causes sweater pilling, dehydration?

It's true. And, I like to wear sweaters whenever I can. And I'm probably going to start getting pills all over this sweater, if I don't get and drink more water.

It's hot in here, you see.


Can't blog. Busy over here.

Can't blog. Selling out.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005


ME: Why is it that you are wearing a wig?

MAN WITH WIG: Aren't we all wearing wigs?

ME: No. I'm not wearing a wig. You are, and just you. So, why are you wearing a wig?

MAN WITH WIG: But, aren't clothes a kind of a wig? And you're wearing clothes.

ME: No, clothes are not a kind of a wig. Wigs are, probably, a kind of clothes, maybe. But clothes are not a kind of a wig. So, no, I'm not wearing a wig because I'm wearing clothes. Again, why are you wearing a wig?

MAN WITH WIG: Maybe, in fact, I'm not wearing a wig and you are!

ME: No, because a wig is a wig. And not a wig is not a wig. And that thing on your head is clearly a wig. Why are you wearing it?

MAN WITH WIG: Aren't we all, metaphorically speaking, wearing a wig?

ME: If I allow that we are all, metaphorically speaking, wearing a wig, will you tell me why you are, physically speaking, wearing a wig?


ME: Then we are not, metaphorically speaking, all wearing wigs.


Are we not, metaphorically speaking, unable to blog?


There is this now. You can read it.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005


There was, right, the best of intentions from me to blog, right? But, the thing is, right, like I was here, and ready and had the blog, and was at the blog, and ready to, right, do the blog in the way your supposed to and all that, but then, it was like, not there because, see, like, it fell.

I dropped it. I dropped the blog and it fell, right, which means I can't do it or nothing, now.

It fell. Wump wump wump. Right down to the bottom, and that's when it dropped into the glue.

Glue, everywhere. Right?

Yeah, so it totally gummed up the works and all, and now, even if I could get down there to get the blog, I really don't think I'd be able to blog, either. So much cleaning.