This day was long, long, long. I spent the day downtown seeing a mediocre play that neither bored nor interested me. Sometimes that's how it is. On the upside, nobody sat next to me. Even better, nobody with wicked B.O. & nasty, pointy elbows sat next to me, which is awesome. A man in a green coat admired my green coat & thought we should converse in the street (he promised it would be fun) seeing as we both had green coats & all, but I declined. Perhaps on some other day I might have discussed the bitchin' nature of green coats & how much cash I had to spare & whether or not I needed to be saved by Xenu High Dictator of the Galactic Confederacy but not today. I wanted to go to Borders & make fun of the bestsellers, but alas, I only had time to mock a few of those wacky tomes (ostensibly) penned by conservative pundits that seem to be popping up in Evil Chain Bookstores Everywhere. Sometimes to demonstrate my literary disfavor I turn these books face down & walk away. (I cannot flip the covers the bird in front of my mom. She wouldn't like it.) My reasons have less to do with a general distaste for conservative ideology than you might think; mostly, I am angry at the conservatives for ruining the concept of a tea party for ever & ever. Tea parties should have scones & pretty flowered teacups & earl grey with lemon, not misspelled signs & ill-fitting novelty shirts & promises of an armed revolution. Instead, there should be tiny cubes of superfine sugar served with a delicate pair of silver tongs.
They had a sign up for national poetry month on the end-cap, but all they had to offer was Emily Dickinson & Charles Simic & Billy Collins, which is okay I guess. Still, it would have been way cooler if they had brand-spanking-new books by contemporary poets, but of course I know better, because it's Borders for cripes sake. People buy Twilight T-shirts there.
I ate lunch in a restaurant that tried to sell me a wedge of iceberg lettuce for seven dollars but seeing as we have not yet had an apocalyptic food shortage, I thought this rather optimistic on their part. I was not persuaded by their hoary promises of maytag bleu cheese. Seven bucks is too much for a wedge of crappy lettuce. Period. Also: I cannot spend an entire day talking to people for hours on end. It's exhausting. I have decided I hate talking & will happily write back & forth with everybody but real-time reciprocal conversation is just too taxing. Instead of calling on the phone & arranging a real-time visit with me, people should just send unexpected presents in the mail. Anything would do. Send me an oven mitt or a magic 8-ball or a packet of sea monkeys so I know you are thinking of me. That would suit me just fine. I will send you something awesome in return, like sparkly ribbons & tiny bottles of super-fancy sea salt. I think this would be a great way for people to communicate. Remember how Maggie Gyllenhaal leaves an earthworm on James Spader's desk in Secretary? Yeah. You know what I'm talking about.
Another Copy of Thirsty Bones
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