So already, it's 2003. And 'twas only a short 3 years ago that people were wigging out left & right and buying bulk peanut butter. It was also only a short 3 years ago that I started working here in the haven of high-salaried college bookstore-land. This is particularly sad, but only because it wasn't until today that I realized that the sticker in my locker is that of an apple - an APPLE! For 3 years I'd thought that it was a strawberry. Maybe the Lutein IS improving the eyesight! We all know that's a lie!
You know, sometimes - and this is in reference to the eyesight - I think that it would be terribly amusing and terribly discouraging (oh Mother Nature and her cruel dichotomies! bwa bwa bwa!) if there was a surveillance camera on me - like a reality show. Of course, the nudity and the drug-dealing would be eliminated from on-air broadcast, and it would be just shots of me when the eyesight really starts to fail. Oh sweet our-lady-of-guadalupe, life is quite entertaining with the eyes of a dead bat. The night vision is particularly ridiculous. Last night, as I was leaving the big i's new humble abode I thought a shadow was a step and made an enormous motion to go up - up - up! And it was still flat sidewalk. I looked like I was practicing my goose-stepping in order to impress the world with my homage to the Third Reich. Or just a saint - marching on, two by two or maybe just one by one. (What the hell does that song mean, anyway?)
And speaking of organized religion, I was going through the radio this morning when I heard a preacher man (no son of, therefore I can't make cracks about who's the only boy who can ever teach me or for that matter, reach me - at home. Without getting the answering machine. Ha! I managed a crack! And a poor, and uninsightful one at that!). Anyway, I heard a preacher man saying that nowadays there are people who don't believe that there will be a 2nd coming, and at this point, I turn the dial quicker than Satan doused in holy water to Jay Z discussing his own, personal women's rights movement including the stipulation that one must give respect to whoever he (or she, perhaps, oh that politically correct Jay Z!) is lovin', and then of course - humpin' (this is in reference to NOW's new theme song - "Bonnie and Clyde"). Preach on, motherfucker. Preach on. And, ladies and gentleman, that is why there is no Church of Hard Knocks. I wish there was, though. I wish there was.
As for the pepperoni sick-o lust of last night, ohhhh did I ever do that baby. That little Red Baron was off the cookie sheet like a sixteen yr. old's prom dress, and she's drunk! SO so tasty! (I mean the pizza, not a 16 yr. old drunken prom date - she's likely to puke on her Dyeable's and call her mom to pick her up - that reminds me of a party I went to a couple years ago, someone's little sister and little sister's friend came and they were THIRTEEN! THIRTEEN YEARS OLD!!! They got so drunk they ran into cinderblock fences and broke their heads open. And yes, big i - you can imagine who was hitting on the wee preteens - ugh, I might vomit on my Dyeables).
One sad note before I depart, and I say this with great remorse... bubble wrap has lost it's luster. Too much of a good thing - you just can't recover from something like that.