Look At Turkey Now

Oh, the words, and how she laments them and how I laugh at them, and their ambiguity.

"Aren't you the one who has the husband who's addicted to Coke?"

"Um, well, I wouldn't say addicted but, I mean, he does get cranky when his gram's cut with too much non-coke, but, I mean, who doesn't, right? LOL."

I hear you sighing as you read my joke. That sigh that says, "Oh, how I suffer you." I know, I know. I never listen. And it makes you mad but all you can do is tell me things. And me not to listen.

So, I was driving today and I learned something from a billboard. Ready? The wages of sin is death. Death. Guess that beats minimum wage these days. Or ... yo, find a better paying job! Or, let's not and say we didn't. I swear to you on a stack of bibles and a side of pancakes that I would rather earn death than minimum wage. After all, it is a recession.

At any rate, Dude: everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds. A corollary to this principle holds that: any time spent together that results in us having sex couldn't have been spent better because I really, really love having sex with you. But I must confess, I'm not really sure how corollaries work.

However, I am sure that I pissed someone off whilst driving today when I didn't allow him to cut in front of me after he passed several people behind me on the shoulder (you would have been so proud!) He finally did pass me when it opened up to two lanes and there weren't nothing I could do. And by judging by the number and flavor of bumper stickers he was a member of the NRA, so I'm glad I didn't piss him off too bad. Well, I'm not sure about the NRA thing but his truck certainly was white trash and I certainly did back up off, in case of flying bullets or rifles. And I was rill glad he didn't cause me broken and injure myself because, I must tell you, dying today would have really fucked up my plans of living forever. A plan which, so far, is going really well. But then I got to thinking that maybe he had some kind of emergency, some kind of NRA deer hunting emergency, and I felt kind of bad about being a bitch. And then, I further got to thinking about all of those "safe driving" movies I had to watch in driver's ed. Movies about what good driving should be. Movies from the 50's, when they knew things.

I almost starved to death last night. In a restaurant. I had to wait in line for thirty minutes to pick my protein. But it did force exposure to the world, at large. And, PS -- if you're ever out in the world at large and you see me, please don't make eye contact. I hate that. Here's a little piece I composed in my head:

My Thoughts On You
(After Being An Audience To Your Cell Phone Conversation That I Was Forced To Listen To While I Waited In Line To Pick My Protein)

That's you, with the bad ass Benz.
You gotta go to court.
Got subpoenaed for child support.
You ready to bust one of them niggas' heads!
You ain't scared!!
You know how to play it!!!
I know you ain't just gonna let a nigga come and punk you.
Straight up front you.
Straight up run you.
Some of your partners are dope fiends.
But you come up with them niggas.
So you stuck with them niggas.
You spent $70k on your Benz.
Oh, it ain't yours, its your friend's.
You don't go in the projects when its dark.
You went there on New Year's Eve.
You got stuck in that bitch and couldn't leave.
It was hard for you to breathe.

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This got kind of long and I feel (bad about that and...) like you should probably have spent your time doing something else more fun, like enjoying a big bowl of Frosted Monotony. Or having sex with me.