Flat On My Back and Not Making a Dime
Sitting is impossible at the moment. Since I felt the unbelievable ripping sensation through the muscles in my back on Friday I have been doomed to convalesce flat on my back to the tune of Dinosaur Planet, Cinderella, The Triplets of Belleville and back to back episodes of Mythbusters. It is official, my brain has rotted, if not from the overdose of television then from eating gross amounts of Hot Tamales and Kit Kats. I've also learned that if you drink beer lying down you will have a tremendous earth shaking belch once you finally get to your feet.
I've been indulging my white trash alter ego during this episode to amuse myself. When Tom and I first starting dating we used to go bowling a lot. We had our own bowling personas. He was Hank and I was Loretta. Well, Loretta came back to entertain me but I don't think Hank-Bob Joonyer has been at all amused by Momma's requests for a pryin' bar so she kin git up and go to the liberry. Oh baybee, quit yer fussin an' go fetch me a switch. Don't skimp on it now er I'll only beat ya harder.
Have you ever sat up and tried to read Uncle Remus stories? You have to read them out loud or you will not understand them.
Anyway...
The house is as messy as my brain and I can't sleep due to the incredible discomfort and the mess in the house actually speaks to me. It taunts me. Just pick up a little, it won't hurt. You know you wanna. Come on, the file cabinet isn't that heavy, you could move it. It would look much better over there, don't you think? Consider the efficiency! Streamline your operation! Think about all the work you'll be able to get done if you just have the art cabinet reorganized and about three feet to the left! All your troubles will be over!
No! Shut up you stupid bastard furniture! Leave me alone! And fuck you History channel, I don't want to hear one more peep out of you. I don't want to know any more about the Titanic! Please stop taunting me with your interesting topics and bad production values! No Loch Ness Monster, please!
The only one who can save me from this hell... Owen Wilson.
Or maybe Jackie Chan.
I've been indulging my white trash alter ego during this episode to amuse myself. When Tom and I first starting dating we used to go bowling a lot. We had our own bowling personas. He was Hank and I was Loretta. Well, Loretta came back to entertain me but I don't think Hank-Bob Joonyer has been at all amused by Momma's requests for a pryin' bar so she kin git up and go to the liberry. Oh baybee, quit yer fussin an' go fetch me a switch. Don't skimp on it now er I'll only beat ya harder.
Have you ever sat up and tried to read Uncle Remus stories? You have to read them out loud or you will not understand them.
Anyway...
The house is as messy as my brain and I can't sleep due to the incredible discomfort and the mess in the house actually speaks to me. It taunts me. Just pick up a little, it won't hurt. You know you wanna. Come on, the file cabinet isn't that heavy, you could move it. It would look much better over there, don't you think? Consider the efficiency! Streamline your operation! Think about all the work you'll be able to get done if you just have the art cabinet reorganized and about three feet to the left! All your troubles will be over!
No! Shut up you stupid bastard furniture! Leave me alone! And fuck you History channel, I don't want to hear one more peep out of you. I don't want to know any more about the Titanic! Please stop taunting me with your interesting topics and bad production values! No Loch Ness Monster, please!
The only one who can save me from this hell... Owen Wilson.
Or maybe Jackie Chan.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 10:38 PM
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