Yikes! I got super lost in Maryland yesterday. Next time I’m going to pay a grade schooler to ride with me and read the map. I drove out of my way to reach Baltimore because I just had to visit the Urological Museum. While I was there I saw a woman’s kidney stone that was as big as a fist. I kept trying not to imagine how it felt to pass that thing. I couldn’t help but wonder if the sensation bordered on orgasmic. But I’m guessing not. They had all sorts of interesting facts about incontinence and really, who doesn’t want to learn more about that? They also had surgical instruments from years gone by and even postage stamps devoted to urology at the museum. I feel bad coming here without the offspring, though. They would have loved it and the museum would have given them enough material to make urine jokes for months.
I also wanted to see the Chesapeake Bay one more time. It was exactly as I remember it: tranquil, comforting and dead, stinky fish floating everywhere. Noooow I remember why we never went back.
I forgot to mention that while I was eating lunch yesterday they were interviewing the couple from Iowa who won $200.8 million dollars in the lottery. The guy said he and his wife will continue to work. She works at Wal-Mart and he works at some auto place which he named twice. Um, hello? You just won 200 frigging million dollars and you’re worried about collecting a lousy minimum wage pay check from Wal-Mart and a detailing shop? That’s insane. How many seconds before you get pissed about some nasty customer and realize that you’re a millionaire and you don’t have to take Wal-Mart’s crap? Let’s forget the fact that they will probably be hounded for handouts all the time and that their co-workers will more than likely resent them. Why would you WANT to work?! Enjoy life. When I become a world famous writer–which I feel could happen any decade now–the first thing I’m going to do is call up my boss and quit. Then I’m going to call Mr. G’s boss and quit for him. But I’ll make sure I have cash in hand first, lest I have to go crawling back, begging for both of our jobs. These people who say they will continue to work because they want to “be productive,” are full of it. You can be just as productive laying in bed as you can working at Wal-Mart. Any hooker will confirm that.
I am really starting to worry about South’s cat Mr. Snuggles. I was supposed to be in Georgia two days ago. I hope Mike put out enough food and water for him or somebody’s gonna be mighty upset when he comes home from a week of whoring and finds a dead cat stinking up the place. Worse case scenario: I actually make it down to Georgia and I walk in on a dead cat stinking up the place.
God forbid anything should happen to him, because South is just crazy about this cat. He talks about him on IM all. the. time. “Guess what Mr. Snuggles did today?“ “Guess where Mr. Snuggles is sleeping right now?“ “Guess what Mr. Snuggles did when I walked out of the shower naked the other day?” Eww. Eww. Ewwwwww. He even has the damn cat on his answering machine. If you call his house, the message is, “Hi, this is Mike and <the cat meows>, Mr. Snuggles! Leave a message after the <and the cat meows again>“. Ugh! Try listening to that over and over for seven days. He had the cat the last time I stayed at his place, but I was sworn to secrecy. However, I feel no guilt in revealing it now because the other day I made mention of something I had talked about in my last update and South had no idea what I was talking about. I said, “Don’t you read my updates?” He said, “Hell, no. I can’t read that drivel. I just make sure you posted for the day, and I log off.” That little bastard will pay. South. Not Mr. Snuggles.
Speaking of South, I called him last night and said, “Dude, do you think these guys care that I’m not talking about porn on your site?”
He said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure they don’t read your drivel either.”
There is something very insidious going on in this country. No, I’m not referring to Iraq or Foley or the fact Bush can’t give us the exact definition of “torture”, much the same as Clinton couldn’t give us the definition of “is”. I am talking about this TMX Elmo shortage. I found not one freaking Elmo in Maryland. People, I propose a total ban on Fisher Price toys this Christmas. They are deliberately manipulating this situation. If FP wanted, we would have TMX Elmos coming out of our asses. Instead they’re deliberately creating a shortage, so crazy people drive all over the country trying to find one. Keeping my fingers crossed that I can find one in North Carolina and make it to Georgia tod
