Wow, is this font ever large! It's looks scary large to me and I don't even do drugs...
If this entry seems rushed, it's because I'm writing under a deadline (my first). My buddy Michael just told me he's appearing on "Shark" with James Woods, tonight at 10pm (just when I thought it was safe to bail out on network television...). So that means I have 64 minutes to scribble my thoughts before show time. And since I don't know whether Michael's on at the beginning or the end of the show, it also means I get to watch James Woods on TV for 60 minutes straight (and my friends say I don't know the meaning of sacrifice).
For those of you who are wondering (and you know who you are – at least I hope you do because I have no clue), I am sipping delightedly on a glass of Strawberry Kefir whilst plinking upon my keyboard. If you’re not ‘in the know’, kefir is 'cultured milk'. That's right, my milk is cultured and yours isn't, so kiss my grits. You drink that lowbrow 2% or even (gasp!) nonfat – that’s so passé. My milk is ‘soured.’ That’s right. ‘Cultured’ means ‘soured’. Now that’s progress. They used to call ‘cultured milk’ “spoiled”, and throw it out. Now they ‘sour’ it and say it’s good for you. This explains how they can charge $6 a pint for spoiled milk. Except that even though they call it ‘cultured’, it’s hard to disguise the fact that it tastes like crap, so they decided to put Real Artificial Strawberry Flavoring in it to make it taste better. But since the Real Artificial Strawberry Flavoring has all kinds of sweeteners in it, the Strawberry Kefir is no longer good for you. And in order to get it to retain any nutritional value at all, they can't put actual sugar in it (which might actually make it taste halfway decent), so the Real Artificial Strawberry Flavoring makes the drink taste like Real Artificially Flavored Strawberry Spoiled Milk. This means it tastes bad and is bad for me, which of course makes it my favorite drink. The good news is, because it’s so expensive and you can only find it in one store in the entire city, it’s guaranteed to be all the rage in Los Angeles
The other good news is that drinking strawberry kefir allows me to feel completely justified drinking a 36 oz. bottle of “Dead Guy Ale”, brewed in Newport , Oregon
Only 53 minutes to go...
I'm also writing this with my nephew's logon (on my mother's computer - and people wonder how my life got so confused these days). Which means that while I'm writing, messages keep flashing on the screen for "Undeadpride4191" and "Filthymiscreant6" and "BlakStar313". I'm pretty sure all of these are just my nephew sending messages to himself simply because he thinks it's cool to get email that calls him "Undeadpride" or "Filthymiscreant". Oh, to be 15 again...actually, I'm just glad he finally stopped calling himself "Scud". No matter how many times you tell an adolescent that naming himself after the worst performing missile in military history is not the way to make a name for himself, it never sinks in. It's like naming yourself "Edsel" or "Ishtar." Some things are simply never going to catch on. ("Iona Mercedes" just signed on - get it? " Iona
39 minutes left.
Back on the Halloween thing, I happened to call my ‘friend’ Angie a couple of days ago while I was shopping for pumpkins to carve (Angie will now spend the next 36 hours frantically analyzing why I called her my ‘friend’, which of course is exactly why I did it – sometimes I’m just evil…). She of course is a sane person, with exceptional judgment and an uncommon share of common sense (except of course that she has a very high opinion of me – fatal flaw but works to my advantage). She happened to be on the phone with me while I brought the pumpkins to “The Pumpkin Patch” cash register and so she heard me yelp incoherently when the guy told me how much I was paying for 3 large orange squashes I wasn’t planning on eating (I won’t tell you how much it was, but suffice to say I’ve put off the engine rebuild on my car for another month). So then she asks if I scoop out the pumpkin goop on the insides myself and of course I reply that I like to get the pre-scooped pumpkins – ya pay a little more but it contributes to the local economy. So my ‘friend’ with the uncommon share of common sense sees this as a brilliant business opportunity. She says, “You can pay your nephew to scoop out the insides for you, then mark up the pre-scooped-out pumpkins and sell them on margin.” I gently remind her that this is my 15 year old nephew we’re talking about, and based on his productivity to date, I’d have to charge about $1200 per pre-scooped pumpkin just to break even.
18 minutes left (“Jelloassassin” has just signed on – the mind boggles…).
Did I mention they’re considering giving me a promotion at work? If I actually kill my boss, they might give me his job. They haven’t offered stock options yet though. I’m holding out…
12 minutes and counting – where are the good Bond villains anyway? There’s a new Bond movie coming out in a couple weeks and I like the new guy – Daniel Craig. If they make him dangerous, it might be worth a look. But if they go with the stupid gadgets and unbelievable stunts, I’m completely giving up on the Bond series. I can’t take it anymore.
Show time…Michael looks good. He’s playing a lawyer, kind of a smarmy lawyer. If they only knew… Just kidding – if Michael were any nicer they wouldn’t let him in Hollywood
Maybe I can have my nephew give him a cool screen name.
