Sunday, January 09, 2005
In Which Things of No Particular Importance Happen
Yesterday I finally decided to suck it up and clean the snow off my car. I think there was a part of me that sort of hoped it would all just miraculously melt off, but nothing doing. Where were you, Jesus? I nearly impaled myself on my scraper, and I ended up covering myself in snow from head to toe. It was hot. Remember when you were a kid and you loved winter? Yeah, me neither.
I went to the Chicago Sketch Comedy Festival this weekend. If you live in Chicago, you should check it out. It was hilarious, and I never think things are funny. Not even Louie Anderson.
When I wrote that, I had to imdb Louie Anderson to make sure he's not dead, because if he were, it would be wrong to make fun of him. He's not. So tough luck, Louie. And tough luck to me, too, because now I have Louie Anderson in my browser history. Along with all that sick ferret porn.
I also allowed myself to eat a two cheeseburgers meal at McDonald's, and it was possibly the greatest moment of my life. No, I haven't seen Super Size Me. I don't care. They could put that french fry grease directly into my veins, if they wanted.
There's a program about prostitutes on the television right now. A woman who looks an awful lot like Boy George but with a distressingly Madonnaesque fake accent (the early New Yorkish muddle, not the recent Britishlike mess) is explaining various things she does to her customers, things that I did not know were things people could ever possibly do for pleasure. Now I know I must never, ever have sex again.
Yesterday I finally decided to suck it up and clean the snow off my car. I think there was a part of me that sort of hoped it would all just miraculously melt off, but nothing doing. Where were you, Jesus? I nearly impaled myself on my scraper, and I ended up covering myself in snow from head to toe. It was hot. Remember when you were a kid and you loved winter? Yeah, me neither.
I went to the Chicago Sketch Comedy Festival this weekend. If you live in Chicago, you should check it out. It was hilarious, and I never think things are funny. Not even Louie Anderson.
When I wrote that, I had to imdb Louie Anderson to make sure he's not dead, because if he were, it would be wrong to make fun of him. He's not. So tough luck, Louie. And tough luck to me, too, because now I have Louie Anderson in my browser history. Along with all that sick ferret porn.
I also allowed myself to eat a two cheeseburgers meal at McDonald's, and it was possibly the greatest moment of my life. No, I haven't seen Super Size Me. I don't care. They could put that french fry grease directly into my veins, if they wanted.
There's a program about prostitutes on the television right now. A woman who looks an awful lot like Boy George but with a distressingly Madonnaesque fake accent (the early New Yorkish muddle, not the recent Britishlike mess) is explaining various things she does to her customers, things that I did not know were things people could ever possibly do for pleasure. Now I know I must never, ever have sex again.
