I know what the public wants. An intimate portrait of a day in the life of ME. Through the generosity of my heart, I will deliver.
I feel content. Oh, and happy too.
"Today I finally overcame trying to fit the world inside a picture frame"
You got it John! That's the ticket! So here goes:I began the day at approximately 9:30a and wandered this glorious apartment lackadaisically, wondering why my vision was blurred. Eureka!! I found my eyeglasses! What a relief! After a healthy serving of buttermilk pancakes and blueberry syrup, I engaged in a rapidly frustrating tug-of-war with my internet service provider. Low connection speed? You've got to be kidding me! Commie bastards! After a shameful retreat, I cleaned the dishes in the sink, on the counter, and on the side table. Yes, those fuckers migrate around the living spaces. I also engaged in a process they call laundering... not money, unfortunately, clothing.
Around that point in time, I heard a knock at the door. That is unusual due to the fact that visitors rarely come uninvited around here. So I answered the knocking in my best impression of Martha Stewart on a cold day.
"Hi" I say to the man at the door. "Do I know you?" The man is a stranger; I know this because I've never seen him before.
"You've parked in my spot" He says, with a bit of a Northern accent. I look down the steps at my bird poop covered Altima. Yep, that's my parking spot alright. I look at the bird poop covered man with great confusion and fascination at his proceding hairline. He attempts explanation: "You see, I live here and that parking spot is assigned to me" I take a look inside my navy blue racing striped apartment and turn back to the strange man.
"I think you've forgotten your medication, my friend" I attempt sarcasm.
"Indeed!" the foreigner agrees, "Perhaps I could get some pancakes?"
The man looked like he already ate all of the local Waffle Houses, yet he claims hunger. So I invite him to a plate of cakes on the condition that he does all my laundering for me. He accepts.
I love cheap labor!
I feel content. Oh, and happy too.
"Today I finally overcame trying to fit the world inside a picture frame"
You got it John! That's the ticket! So here goes:I began the day at approximately 9:30a and wandered this glorious apartment lackadaisically, wondering why my vision was blurred. Eureka!! I found my eyeglasses! What a relief! After a healthy serving of buttermilk pancakes and blueberry syrup, I engaged in a rapidly frustrating tug-of-war with my internet service provider. Low connection speed? You've got to be kidding me! Commie bastards! After a shameful retreat, I cleaned the dishes in the sink, on the counter, and on the side table. Yes, those fuckers migrate around the living spaces. I also engaged in a process they call laundering... not money, unfortunately, clothing.
Around that point in time, I heard a knock at the door. That is unusual due to the fact that visitors rarely come uninvited around here. So I answered the knocking in my best impression of Martha Stewart on a cold day.
"Hi" I say to the man at the door. "Do I know you?" The man is a stranger; I know this because I've never seen him before.
"You've parked in my spot" He says, with a bit of a Northern accent. I look down the steps at my bird poop covered Altima. Yep, that's my parking spot alright. I look at the bird poop covered man with great confusion and fascination at his proceding hairline. He attempts explanation: "You see, I live here and that parking spot is assigned to me" I take a look inside my navy blue racing striped apartment and turn back to the strange man.
"I think you've forgotten your medication, my friend" I attempt sarcasm.
"Indeed!" the foreigner agrees, "Perhaps I could get some pancakes?"
The man looked like he already ate all of the local Waffle Houses, yet he claims hunger. So I invite him to a plate of cakes on the condition that he does all my laundering for me. He accepts.
I love cheap labor!
No comments:
Post a Comment