for the love of celery broth, i’m already feeling the shittiness that usually hits on sunday. oh well, this is why i hate staying in at night. too unsexy, too unsexy. but i must. if we can all learn to be ok with our utter unsexiness, we’ll be far better off than those who are doomed to repeat their excessive sexiness.
sketch comedy, help us all.
i’m practicing jokes to an audience of couch cushions with paper faces taped to them. wheeeeehoo. one of the faces is perpetually angry.
right now, i wish i were in a lacy frock with little shiny buckle shoes at some party being shown off by my parents. and i also wish i was five. that would be a little off if this memory had me being 23 in it. of course, if i remember my childhood correctly, this would be my body trying to merge through osmosis with my mother’s leg as she tried to cajole even one peep out of me or one nanosecond of eye contact with a stranger. but i like being in other people’s houses being fed. and entertained. and then being told “it was so great. we should do this again soon.” even if i was an utter non-participant and trashtalked upon departure. pretense is uplifting at times.
this isn’t me. but who wouldn’t want to be this kid?