First off, do you know the names of those damn Umpa Lumpas who released their wreath on me? I think I might have winged one of them with an empty whiskey bottle, but those buggers do scurry off rather fast. Really, I just want to give the thing back, it's a pretty nice wreath. Lots of little chipmunk heads on it, with nametags like "Alvin" and "Dale". Quite strange. I don't think I've ever seen a blue chipmunk before... "Smurfette?" Quite an odd name for a chipmunk.
Anyway, I left a note on the window of their Suburban (silly little Lumpas, running off and leaving their truck parked in front of my place) saying they could come by and pick up the wreath some time, but you know... I don't think those little buggers can read all that well. I've heard bad things about the school system in that Chocolate Factory. A terrible Lumpa-to-Wonka ratio.
That was phonetically a very strange sentence. Lumpa-to-Wonka ratio? Sounds like a Native American classic rock station. "You're listening to Loompatuwanka Radio! Keep on rockin' in the free Res!" Man, all I'm saying is get a piece of me now before somebody buys up the sitcom rights.
See what you people do to me? I'm babbling like a brook. And not even a very smart brook, more like a Brooke Shields.
I'm really starting to wonder if I returned that paperback copy of "Steel Magnolias" I was borrowing from Lil Duncan. Man, I probably put it in the drop slot at Hollywood Video again. I'm always doing that with my library books, dry cleaning, and urine samples. Though I have to admit the book was a bit of a disappointment. I though it was going to be one of those futuristic techno-thrillers. I mean, hell, if John Wayne's real name can be Busty McSugarhips then I'm willing to accept a half-man half-cyborg superhero named Magnolias. Uh...
Just to set the record straight right now, before it's a problem, I take serious offense at the bashing of my hometown. Regardless of what you may have heard, my family's ancestral Crack Plantation is a national tourist attraction and a serious boon for the state's economy. We provide the brain-shellacking nutrient-rich rock cocaine that makes life, and ABC's primetime line-up, bearable for over 20 million Americans. And I feel proud to come from a town where you can lean out the window of your car and scream "WELL I'LL BE DIPPED IN SHIT!!" at pedestrians without eliciting even the slightest reaction from their oceanized eyes. So there.
And right now, somewhere near Pasadena, there is a young man with a Rastafarian haircut who understands what in the hell that has to do with anything. Trust me.
-ding-
Ooooh! Junk-Email! No time!
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