Je
suis in a bad mood today. I dropped the soap in the shower this
morning, and on picking it up - despite lifelong homophobic
"all gay people are rapists" warnings to the contrary -
I found shard had been chipped off it. Soap can't be sharp, can
it? Wrong. I tore huge strips out of my inner butt-cheeks. As one
orthodontist said to the other as they shared a passionate glass
of grapefruit juice, Yowie! I'm left scratching my bleeding
ass/arse (my donkey feels my pain too) all day, giving the
impression that I have worms. (Not the computer game, but rather
that I've gone into the garden, dug up a load of earthworms, put
them in a bowl, gently heated up 100ml of vaseline so that it'll
coat the earthworms evenly, then pour over the worms - not the
other way around or it'll curdle - and insert into the rectum. I
have it on good authority that it is worth trying this: your shit
is digested both by you and the worms, and the worms leave it
with the impression of worm casts, hence you can shit all over
people's lawns without them either noticing or minding).
Giving
off the impression of having worms left me in a somewhat adverse
position when I met a lady friend for lunch (that is a friend who
is a lady, not a lady who is a friend). We were meeting at Marco
DiCasto's Authentic Chinese Restaurant for me to break the news
to her about my dead dog (which actually was her dog that I was
just minding for her while she was doing something funny). Like I
said, je suisn't (past tense?) in a very good mood. I told her
about picking her dog up by the tail and swinging him into a wall
until his head went pop over the Farfalle Negro Con Spring Rolls.
She stood up, slapped me, slapped the waiter, and walked out.
(that is a who is a lady, not a lady who is a). I think she may
have misunderstood and thought I popped her dog's head over the
Farfalle... that she was eating, when in fact I was telling her
while she was eating. Doesn't ambiguity make for huularrrious
situations? Perhaps if I explain the situation to her, she may
understand and apologise to the waiter.
Next
up on my happy happy joy joy list of things to do was to go to my
godlessdaughter's funeral. That'll be good for a laugh eh? My
godlessdaughter (the atheistic equivalent of a goddaughter) was a
sweet 12 year old girl who died of cancer 2 months ago, but her
busy family only got round to burying today. The doctors say she
might not have died if she had gone to chemotherapy instead of
spending all her time starting internet chain letters. Still, at
least she found love with her boyfriend Enrique, and if she
hadn't died of cancer, she would have been a mother in a matter
of weeks. Told you it was funny. One of the trilogy of comedy
bastions: children dying painfully, the Holocaust, and rape. I
guess I should look on the bright side: I may have ripped my ass
to shreds with soap, I may have been slapped for killing a dog,
my godlessdaughter may have died in immense pain, and all around
the world women and men are being raped, but at least millions
didn't die in concentration camps today. Amnesty says the figures
for death in concentration camps and there modern day equivalents
for yesterday only total about 10-15,000.