I wish I didn’t have to stand on one leg, hum a B-flat, and hold my computer at a 38 degree angle just to receive a fraction of an internet connection in my living room. For those of you who already know that I do not have cable at my apartment, what you don’t know is that I also do not have internet service. That’s right. I live in a cable-less, internet-less, assisted living center for retards and the elderly in hospice. I may as well be living in solitary confinement. It’s like I’m being punished. As an added bonus, my refrigerator freezes anything on the backside of the top shelf completely solid, but leaves everything on the bottom shelf lukewarm. As if things couldn’t get any worse, our heating/air conditioning system is like a wild animal that can’t be tamed. It’s either a smoldering hot Electrolux oven, or a frigid ice box inside my apartment. I just can’t win.
Yesterday on the news, I learned that an elderly woman who lives alone with her dog was in her garage a couple of days ago when she tripped over something and fell head and shoulders first into a bucket. She falls so perfectly into this bucket and with such force that she is literally stuck in the bucket from the arms up, where she helplessly rolls about for four days until a neighbor finds her nearly freezing to death in her garage.
How the fuck does this happen? Old people are supposed to fall off ladders and break their hips, not get legitimately stuck in Blue Bunny containers. How does a human being fall into a bucket so concisely that they are ACTUALLY stuck inside of it? Was this bucket full of rubber cement and krazy glue? Was it shaped exactly like her body but one size too small? I think someone just wanted attention. Next time you’re lonely, Ethel, just fall off a stepping stool in your kitchen within reaching distance of the telephone. Don’t shimmy your way into a human-shaped bucket and lie on the cement floor like a fish out of water until the neighbors find you.
I used to have a huge aversion to cottage cheese. This was before I had ever tasted it, but it’s appearance was enough to make even a billy goat stomach sick. Let’s face it, it is an unattractive food. They don’t call cellulite “cottage cheese thighs” for no reason. Anyway, one day a friend of mine made me try some, and after screwing up my face like it tasted like sour grapes, I discovered that I actually tolerated, even enjoyed cottage cheese, and it is now a frequent item on my grocery list. Then I began noticing something. Why is it that when people are eating cottage cheese, they dig around in the container with their spoon as if they’re digging for gold? All the tiny little curds are almost exactly the same size and shape. The curds two inches below the surface are no different than the curds on top of on the bottom. Yet, everybody does it.
I’m going to watch Two and a Half Men. You understand.
“I knew I had a shopping problem when I had to go to Wal-Mart every week to buy more hangers.”