Forgive the fragmented nature of today's entry, gentle readers. It has been a fragmented week . . . month . . . hell, LIFE. But that remains beside the point - especially since i haven't found any point within these writings, so to speak of. At any rate, I strive valliantly forth into absolute nothingness . . .
A large green truck rear-ended my car, the other day. Much to my dismay, Shadi was in the car as well and got a touch of whiplash. The roads were slick with rain, you see. Some dipshit 3 cars ahead of me stopped short, the car behind him stopped short, and so on and so forth. I only just missed the car in front of me by mere inches, but my tail got nipped.
Not hard, mind you - just enough to crack the bumper. It shall have to be replaced. Oh how I lament the loss of my stickers!
Still, I must admit, it's rather refreshing to be involved in an accident and tell my dad with certainty: "It's not my fault!"
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My brother Calder sleeps with his eyes open. Literally. I came across him in the living room yesterday afternoon, dozing away, eyelids slackened, displaying his irises through narrow slits. Although I have witnessed this phenomenon before, it is nevertheless disquieting. I stood before him, waved my hands, brought my finger within milimeters of his exposed eyeball, and still he did not stir. Then, i poked his shoulder. Sleep peeled back from his occular globes like an invisible nictating membrane before he kicked me for disturbing his slumber. God we're weird people.
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Ok, if Goofy and Pluto are both dogs, why does Goofy get to wear clothing, speak, drive cars, and walk upright whereas Pluto spends his days naked in a dog house and barks incoherently while romping about on all fours?
The mystery lives on.
I can only come to two viable conclusions:
1. Pluto has autism
2. Pluto acts as a communal massochistic slave for all the other disney characters, and willingly submits himself to such base treatment. In fact, he can't live without it. He needs the shame and abuse. He lovesthat collar. God only knows what happens in Toon-town after hours . . . .
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I own 5 outfits made entirely out of PVC plastic - including two with boning and lacings. I only realized that the other day, going through my closet. I suspect that there may be something wrong with me.
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