Aug. 5th, 2001

realexplodingcat: (Default)
Every single night I wash my face. It just gets dirty again. I'm not completely sure how it ends up covered in grass, mud, and bugs by morning, but that's what life with my wife is like.

She's insane, but she's cute. And all of her pets are imaginary, which is good, because I'd really hate cleaning up after a rhinoceros. Especially hers--he hates litterboxes with a passion.

All is good, I suppose, but I wish the wife would let me remove the Ed McMahon portrait from my music nook. If I were composing game show or talk show music, I wouldn't complain, but I'm trying to create something beautiful. Ed McMahon's leering at me. I don't feel like these fingers can create anything beautiful when I feel like such a piece of meat.

Meat.... mmmm. I had cocktail weenies for lunch. Life is good. All I have left to do tonight is drag my half-baked wife to bed. First, of course, I have to wrestle this computer out of her hands. Sleep well, my friends and catamites. I'll return after tossing my cookies in the River Lethe.

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