Don't You Wish Your Girlfriend Was a Freak Like Me?I'm on a "Random" kick lately, in case you haven't noticed. I love the word "random" ever so much. It tastes like a Russell Stover dark chocolate-covered vanilla cream bon bon.
Some random thoughts that are going through my head right now:
I'm so grateful that my DSL worked normally for thirty minutes today. I felt like a surfing Cinderella, finally able to join the dance -- frantically visited as many blogs as I could, loaded YouTube videos like a maniac, and listened to the same Fiona Apple song on MySpace over and over again. Alas, as evidenced by the five minutes it took to load my Blogger page, my coach has turned back into a pumpkin.
I wonder if anyone else worries about the DNA we leave on razors. I run the blades of my Daisy razor under scalding-hot water in order to obliterate any DNA that might be lurking there. Now, I realize that the following is not even remotely possible, not even in another dimension, but I have a fear of my DNA somehow collecting in the drain trap and mingling with other people's DNA, then forming a zygote in a warm, nurturing pocket of Saran Wrap that had accidentally gone down the drain, eventually developing into a fetus, and finally growing into a hideous infant that is birthed by pecking its way out of the Saran Wrap womb, sort of like a baby chick, only monstrous. I have actually imagined my monster baby crawling around in the sewers of Rochester, a big rat caught in its beak-like mouth, searching desperately for its mama.
The sickest thing about this fantasy is that I start to feel very upset for my poor monster baby, and even tear up a little.
"The Grudge 2" is SCARY!
With her shaved head, Britney Spears now looks like a total Bertha May Norton.
My brother, Rob, is the only person alive who appreciates how funny it is to yell "Mount Krakatoa!" while perusing videos in BlockBusters.
Random. Is. Good.