February 25, 2005
WHAT? I JUST PRESS THIS BUTTON? THIS ONE? THE RED ONE?
The roof is fixed enough. I'm not strangling pillows and having Scandinavian talks with God. Hot gravy. Let's all drive into the funset singing Brian Wilson songs or or Paxil ads or whatever it is that he writes.
What have I been up to? You know. Downloading terrifying rap, gumming Frozfruit, Googling "bubonic plague," grinding my teeth down to nubs over my children's education, taking my temperature every twelve seconds, having trans-atlantic telephone conversations with my wife about moving to London, having intra-atlantic conversations with Jessica and Britt about how cruel Missy is being to those poor kids on her TV show. (I am sorry—infomercial, my white ass. Missy comes across like a sadistic retard walking around with that mobster lollipop. I am sure the show memo said "The Apprentice meets Survivor with a dash of American Idol flava, LOL" but Missy's all like Dame Dash and Tony Robbins sewn together at the nuts, and wearing too much lip gloss. Lick my shot.)
But what the heck am I worried abut? Jay-Z wants to help kids polish the golden bars of their own cage. No need for, like, science and crap.
Posted by Sasha at February 25, 2005 03:45 PM | TrackBack