(Via chat with my girl Nicky in L.A.)
Nicky: You should come here in the summer and then we'll go to Disneyland.
Me: Okay. (*insert random Disneyland conversation here*) You know what I hate? People who go to Disneyland and full on make out in the lines. And then you fucking go through the line and every time you turn, there they are again.
Nicky: Hahahaha!
Me: Seriously. And by the end of the line she whips out his penis and there's a bump on it.
Nicky: A bump on it. HAHAHAHAHA! And you say you have writer's block? You come up with this shit so easily!
Me: What, you want me to write a novel about some couple that goes to Disneyland and makes out in the lines?
Nicky: Yes.
Me: Like this... "Karen got on her knees, freed Jim's throbbing manhood from his Levis and took a deep breath. Then stopped. In the fading autumn sunlight, she could distinctly see a bump on it. Small enough to resemble a zit but large enough to cause sexually transmitted worry, she decided to ask him a few pertinent questions before continuing."
Nicky: You're killing me.
Me: Okay but answer me this. Do I cross over into the realm of the pathetic when I'm up at 3 am learning new scrapbooking techniques? I should be looking at porn dammit.
I think I'm de-sensitized to porn though. I'm taking a porn break, and then maybe in a couple of months it will be new and exciting again. I need to go to sleep but once again I have insomnia. Aud isn't helping matters by keeping me awake, listening to lovestruck, coke-dialed voicemail messages. You know what's even worse than people who drunk dial? People who coke dial. Imagine "If you don't come back to me I'll stab myself in the heart with a pencil" but about a million times worse.
So on Saturday, my friend Michelle threw a scrapbooking party. It was actually a lot of fun. She served brunch and mimosas, although my mimosas were kind of a joke. Does it still count as a "mimosa" if you poured a glass of champagne, then added a dribble of orange juice to it so it kind of resembled what the others were drinking? I think technically it still counts. Geo came along and babysat the twins, so his friends were calling him up and making fun of him. But you know, that's just one of the residual effects of knocking your wife up with twins. We got lost on the way home and almost ran over some wild turkeys. Thanksgiving is next weekend so we probably should have tried to hit one then tossed it into the trunk. Just kidding. We would have strapped it to the roof so it wouldn't mess up the trunk.
Incidentally, it is snowing in upstate New York where my friend lives. SNOWING. I really really miss California sometimes. Snow loses its Norman Rockwell appeal really fast. Like the first time it ever snowed after I moved here, I went out and made snow angels. But after the first time I ever had to walk through snow on the way work (without the benefit of snow boots) I decided I despised snow. And that loathing has multiplied exponentially ever since I was introduced to the despicable practice of shoveling snow. Like it isn't bad enough that one has to go to work, one has to wake up an extra 5 hours earlier to do unpaid manual labor, just so one can be rewarded with the pleasure of going to work. The weather gods have sadistic senses of humor.
On Sunday, Mike J, Tony and Abel came over to hang out. I was a bit peeved that I finally remembered to watch Desperate Housewives, only to find it superceded by the useless, "Doesn't Count Because It's Not The Grammys But Everyone Pretends It Does" American Music Awards.
Mike J: Oh my God, Outkast is black????
Tony: Oh my God, you really are white.
Me: In his defense, "Hey Ya" is probably the only Outkast song he's ever heard and they don't sound like Outkast there.
Mike J: It IS the only song I've ever heard by them.
I want to say that at that point someone said "Ignorance is not an excuse" but I think that would just be retro-editing. I think I just want someone to have said that because it would have been really funny. Mike puts up with a lot of abuse from us, but he doesn't mind because then he gets to dish it right back out without us getting pissed.
Tony walked into the house and tossed me his camera's packaging, thereby officially giving me the camera that he's let me borrow for the last 8 months. Thank God. The strain of having to pretend like I was actually going to give it back ever was almost more than I could bear. Mike walked in with toys for the girls, despite the fact that it's really me who likes to sit and actually play with the toys. The girls just like to come over and wreak havoc on my nicely organized villages and neighborhoods. Godzilla ain't got shit on these little monsters. We have a symbiotic relationship though because I like to set them up and they like to knock them over. Everyone wins.
Lastly, this is why I should not be allowed to play with children's toys:
Oh lighten up. It's not like they can fucking read yet.
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