Friday Morning Hodgepodge

Least Pleasant Start To A Morning Ever: So I'm standing in the room that I jokingly refer to as my office (no work has ever been done there, so really it's just a room with a bookshelf and a chair and my closet, but that takes too long to say, ergo, "office") and I'm all bleary-eyed and attempting to dress myself. My mind is in the next galaxy over from this one, past the stars and beyond the moon, and as I pick up my khakis, something rolls off them and onto the floor. Because I'm, as I said, sort of not all there, what's happening doesn't quite register and so, of course, I step on this mystery thing that was once lying on my pants. It's warm. And squishy. And... furry...

It's a mouse. A dead mouse. Freshly killed and bloody and a horror show and I just smooshed it with my bare foot.

Needless to say, I died twice, my brain screaming germaphobic thoughts like a klaxon announcing the end of the world, and I'm pretty sure I shrieked like an old lady in a black-and-white movie that's just discovered a shocking secret. Just awful, this.

I mean I coped and picked it up with a wad of paper towels thick enough to stop a bullet and I tossed it in the alley, but still. Bleak stuff and a bad way to perk yourself up in the AM.

Oh, and I'd also like to point out that I DID NOT go ahead and wear the Khakis of Death, though I thought about it for a second, because I'm just gross like that. But right-headedness prevailed and I wore some jeans instead. Fairly sure nothing died on them, though I guess you never know.

Our cat is a psycho-killer, y'all. For reals.

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One of the great things about finding the person you're going to be with for the rest of your life is that you can completely go nuts with the horrible, disgusting food and not worry about ever being attractive again because... ha ha... you're all in love n' junk and fat doesn't matter WHEN YOU'RE IN LOVE!!!! As is my understanding.

I bring it up because, last night, we had just about the worst thing a person can possibly eat outside of just downing a tub of butter with a spoon. This is what we ate: A take-out container of french fries, covered in melted cheese, sliced steak, sour cream, salsa, guacamole, and chopped lettuce and tomato. That's french fries. Covered in all kinds of wonderful. My heart is beating sluggishly just thinking about it.

To be fair to Girlfriend, she only ate about half of hers, seeing as how she's not a hopeless fat ass like me. This, of course, means that I ate my entire order of Potatoes con Cholesterol PLUS half of hers as well. It's kind of a miracle that I'm up and walking around and stepping on dead mice and not in a body bag in the basement of a hospital where I got taken because my chest exploded in a geyser of grease like Johnny Depp's bed in Nightmare on Elm Street.

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Here's a link to the new song and video from The Fratellis, a band that has been highly praised on this very blog numerous times. Not a hundred percent on board with this one, though. It's not bad or anything... it's just kind of whatever. But I like the group enough to be supportive of even their mediocre-iest offerings.

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Todd said some nice things about me over on his blog. I like it when people say nice things about me. I like Todd. But not just because he said nice things about me. I also like him because the motherfucker can DANCE!!!

Anyway, he said that he thinks I should get a book deal based on the content of ZFS!. I think that's really sweet of him and, aw shucks, I'm just trying to be entertaining and lil' ol' me doesn't deserve any fancy consideration, I'm just happy if everyone else is happy, you know? I'm just regular folks.

Now, all false modesty aside, I would literally kill for a book deal. And not even blink. Publishers, editors, agents... anyone you want to "disappear" or have "a little accident" or get "run over by a car" while they're "in the shower?" I'll take care of it. No problemo, senor. As long as I get a little something for the... ya know... effort, if you catch my drift (a book deal would be nice).