I just saw the neighbor whose balcony is covered with random shit that never moves. I was clicking around the internets when I heard some cardboard rippage and turned to see if it was ferret mischief. I happened to catch a glimpse of her through my open door, which looks directly at her balcony. She was sitting in her doorway, opening some sort of package. I didn’t stare, but it looked like she was about…
Rusty leak water? Or ectoplasm?* The maintenance man came in today while I was at work and surveyed the bathroom leak. He said he can’t for the life of him figure out where the leak is coming from. He might have been drunk, which would help explain why he couldn’t figure out why there was water standing on my floor and under my cabinets. But I think there’s a much more reasonable explanation. Ghosts. *This…
What? 1. He drinks his own pee. 2. He steps in his own pee and then licks his foot. 3. He licks Felix’s naughty bits. 4. Knowing the kinds of things Gonzo licks, I still let him give me kisses.
The bathroom leak is getting worse. I woke up today and the area from the cabinet all the way to the tub was soaked. This includes my rug, which was green but now has a nice rust tint to it. My anxiety about this problem is seeping into my dreams. I fell asleep yesterday on the couch and dreamed that I was trapped in a small kitchen whose walls were soggy with rainwater and bulging…
I am the happiest right now that I have been in a while.
How can I possibly offer consolation to someone who found this blog by searching for “curly rape david sedaris”?
Friends, I subscribe to the weekly Savannah Courier to keep up with the shenanigans and goings-on of my Hardin County brothers and sisters (and, I’ll admit, the growing list of my peers who are getting hitched and having babies), and every week the paper is delivered to my doorstep (okay, stuffed in my tiny mailbox) brimming with a particular hilarity best exemplified by rural white America. And every week it is a struggle for me…
Sometimes it’s fun to get out of your car, lock the doors, walk to the door, and shoot a look at your car as the timed headlights click off, imagining that you made them go off with your mind.
Lest this space become the epicenter of passive-aggressive Sidelines-bashing, I’d like to point out a delightfully written lede by one Jennifer Holder. Although it was the one-year anniversary of MTSU’s student bill of rights, John K. Wilson left his party hat at home. Yes! That is an excellent introduction to a story about one person dissenting from the ideas behind a particular policy. It’s short, clever, funny, and it basically tells the story — albeit…
V for Vendetta stars Jack White (right) and a 12-year-old skinhead boy. Ah, the visit. Amber and Craig rolled in Monday morning at 12:30 or so. We sat up until 4:30 or so clucking. Quick Craig Report I really, really like Craig. He is smart and funny and courteous and generous and generally a solidly good guy. As you might have heard, he does quite a David Brent. It’s spot-on. But more importantly, he’s perfect…
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