Pull the Curtain

Whereas usually I end up nodding off to the soothing sound of wookie discourse in the next room (as my father habitually watches Star Wars to lull him to sleep), last night it was I who needed some late night telly to numb my mind. And, since Dad has since moved out of my house and back into his, I had full reign over tv subject matter. I love Star Wars as much as the next girl, but flipping through channels seemed more adventurous at 2am.

I landed on a cheaply recorded, vaguely familiar film and realized that one of the actors was an old flame. Quickly I flashback to five years earlier when Driscol asked me to join him in acting in a dramatic suspense picture written by one of his friends from art school. I reluctantly agreed. Now I suddenly realized that I soon might see myself on screen.

Sure enough, several excruciating minutes later, I watched myself lying in bed with Driscol, smoking a cigarette, naked from the waist up. I looked around my living room to make sure my dad wasn't sitting next to me.

"Come over here, my darling hippopotamus."

"You know I don't like to be called that."

I seemed to be repeating playfully how I didn't want to be referred to as a hippo and simultaneously figuring out Discol's character's complex secret arrangements to kill me, all the while my breasts bare and my figure looking highly hippo-ish. I dramatically scribbled some wavy lines symbolizing important information into a notebook using a giant sharpie marker.

I couldn't bare to watch any more, especially since I remembered that this was my only scene.

Although my acting was impeccable, I'm not sure my dad would be proud of his little girl for a job well done. I hope Chewbacca never fails him.

How to make friends, Part II

It occurred to me today that I will soon need to wear a bathing suit again, namely the one with the peacock feather across the front. I don't want to pop out of my peacock, so I decided to do some toning at the gym. I bore myself with this toning nonsense and tried to make a toning friend. I picked a lovely, tall, woman with dark brown hair. She was putting her round weights back on the stand; an ideal time to assault her with verbage. It seemed as though she was having some difficulty: "Hello. Its hard to get them in the hole, sometimes. THATS WHAT SHE SAID." Some people just don't understand this joke. She must have been one of those people.

I focused next on the birds. Peacocks are birds. If birds like me, the peacock will look just marvelous draping my flab. Unfortunately, a few days prior, I destroyed a small dove's nest that some peace-loving douchebag constructed inside of my expensive hanging flower pot. I desperately needed forgiveness, and figured food is the best way to a bird's heart. I placed some bird seed outside in one of those little houses that hang from things, sat down, and waited. Two squirrels climbed the trellis, knocked all the seed out of that little house, and selectively ate the sunflower seeds. Not trying to befriend the squirrels, I sent Simon outside to chase them away. He ate one of them, I think.

I visited the extensive interweb for bathing suit dilemma-fixing data. The perfect solution: the sarong. To quote Dion, "ain't nothin' sarong with dat."

Update on My Progress.

My new year's resolution, not to punch anyone in 2009, has been thus far a success.