The big goal for October is to update this mofo every day -- and to also incorporate funny alternatives to profanity in all my goshdamn conversations. That last one is actually what I say; I have never said its profane sister. It's all that Catholic schooling that did it to me. I'll never be able to do anything without fearing airborne chalk thrown from the hands of one Sister Mary Courtade, fourth grade teacher, St. Basil Catholic School.
We used to drive around with toilet paper, streaming it down the streets of South Haven, dressing Teddy up in it (a tiny mummy!), leaving bologna on the cars of rich boys who thought we were merely stupid townies. Mark and Dave and I made signs one day. All they said was 'hookers,' if memory serves, and we stealthily drove up to the high school parking lot. "Faculty parking only" became "Hookers parking only." What pranksters!
So I think I know what things would be like if I were to get drunk. The other night around 1:30 am, I fell into a sleepy, talkative, ridiculous mood. Usually when I'm sleepy, I talk more than a sassy audience member on Ricki Lake. But instead of playa-hatin', I spout off the dorkiest stuff, all in what I suspect is a slurred purr. This occasion was no different, but rather embarrassing. "Did youuuuu know"--here, I swivel a half-turn and tap my finger on people--"that FAULKner's whole 'good ol' boy' Southern schtick was only half truuuue? Y'see, he spent"--tap tap, toothy delirious grin, walk into wall--"a while in PAR-is, just like all those other drunken expates! Have you ever read Light in August?" And the whole time I have this silly accent going, and I'm aware of it but not quite able to stop it.
Stereolab and eggs: like I said, what's not to like about the whole deliciously lazy thing?
We used to drive around with toilet paper, streaming it down the streets of South Haven, dressing Teddy up in it (a tiny mummy!), leaving bologna on the cars of rich boys who thought we were merely stupid townies. Mark and Dave and I made signs one day. All they said was 'hookers,' if memory serves, and we stealthily drove up to the high school parking lot. "Faculty parking only" became "Hookers parking only." What pranksters!
So I think I know what things would be like if I were to get drunk. The other night around 1:30 am, I fell into a sleepy, talkative, ridiculous mood. Usually when I'm sleepy, I talk more than a sassy audience member on Ricki Lake. But instead of playa-hatin', I spout off the dorkiest stuff, all in what I suspect is a slurred purr. This occasion was no different, but rather embarrassing. "Did youuuuu know"--here, I swivel a half-turn and tap my finger on people--"that FAULKner's whole 'good ol' boy' Southern schtick was only half truuuue? Y'see, he spent"--tap tap, toothy delirious grin, walk into wall--"a while in PAR-is, just like all those other drunken expates! Have you ever read Light in August?" And the whole time I have this silly accent going, and I'm aware of it but not quite able to stop it.
Stereolab and eggs: like I said, what's not to like about the whole deliciously lazy thing?
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