Thursday, March 20, 2008

I like David Beckham

I am predictable and gross.

But look at this picture. The level of grooming, ladies and gentlemen.

It's not even grooming. It's grooooooooooooooming.

And I don't even *like* grooming. I like my men scuzzy and unwashed.

I bet he doesn't even ejaculate. A gentle puff of jasmine-scented air and a tiny burst of appetite suppressant are the only indicators that appear in your mouth.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

break out the red lipstick, blue states

barack's comin' to get ya. (here's the original)

Sunday, March 16, 2008

death of a car salesman

Past few days I've been in Detroit. A funeral. My uncle Mike. My mom's brother. He sold Fords. There was crying, arguments over money and burial arrangements. Cold cuts.

We've never been a very big extended family. Now we keep getting smaller and smaller. I thought you were supposed to grow up and have your own family to replace that original dying family as you got older.

I also thought my handwriting would get nicer. You should see how I sign my name. It's awful. All loopy and diligent, like a 4th grader writing "Mrs. Ralph Macchio" on an autograph dog.

It's probably good I don't have kids. They'd take a legitimate sick day and no one would ever believe the note I wrote them.