Mood: Hearting!!! Ralph hit me again tonight. Everytime I mention Norwegians he gets ravenous and eats raw pasta, straight out of the box, which I wouldn't mind so much, but when he finishes it all, he decides it's time to break my eyes against the doorknobs. I love him though! I mean, isn't there something written from back in the 'long time ago's' that doorknobs signified the rebirth of the spirit into everlasting love? He loves me. He's just deeper than most girl's boyfriends. I'm lucky to have him. *~MUAHZ!!!!!~* In other news, those rented bowling shoes were a lot of fun. I didn't know nails could pertrude a human skull like that! Dad always taught me that putting tin foil in your fillings makes little girls into pretty young women. I believed him for years, until one day he brought me into this secluded part of the woods and showed me his collection of frog skins nailed to a tree. I then learned that Dad was a blatantly disturbed homosexual. I told the town newspaper about it and they came and took Dad away in a police car. They wanted me to testify against him, I withheld until my demands of a free ride in the cop car driven into the front window of a Denny's was met. They obliged, to my delight. So there I was, in the passenger seat of a REALLY REAL Stinger! As we were driving along, I noticed a shop, "Elegant Balloons". I demanded we stop as I needed to go into this shop for some reason that I'd only later understand. I decided I wanted to try out my impression of an british landscaper and inquired if these were, indeed, REAL fancy balloons, and not just some look-alikes. They swore up and down that these were the real deal. But I had noticed something... something FISHY. I've been around quite a few 'elegant balloons' in my life, and just happen to know that they use laquer #2 for a finish, which has a distinct odor -- these "ELEGANT BALLOONS" did not have any such odor. Imposters! I told the clerk about my observations, and she motioned with her hand to follow her into the back room. There, we found a safe--a retnal-scan safe. The vault opened up and she asked me to walk through. Hesitantly, I did so and found myself amidst the gemmist gem of all elegant balloons collections I've ever seen. There were all sorts, so many beautiful colors! I shit myself just a little bit, but blamed it on the smell of the paint on the floor (she was gullible). The clerk took me below a level, where a mass legion of Slovaks were hand-crafting all of the elegant balloons I saw upstairs. That is when my heart sank--I hate when Slovaks touch my balloons. Call it a phobia. Call it slight racism. I don't know. I just don't like it. I don't even think Slovakia HAS balloons, so what business do they have touching mine? That's just gross. Bob? At the office? He said that I should be a hand model. He said he knew someone in the business, but he'd first have to check to see if my hands would really have a shot at the big time. I was so excited! That night, all sorts of grandiose ideas danced through my head. Ever since I saw Manos, The Hands of Fate, I wanted to be a hand model. Need I even mention Cool Hand Luke? Luke knew what was up with the hands, and about how radical they are. Hands for president! I'd eventually want to do movies. I'm kicking around a few pilot ideas in my head. A favorite idea of mine is the sitcom called "Hands Down", about a family of Hands that get together and decides what to hand down to the younger sibbling, and then they all go out for ice cream and a game of kickball. I know if I pitch it, they'll pick the show up for at least 12 episodes. But, that's just a pipe dream for now. Perhaps someday. ::sigh::
Raincoat Pt. 2 -- The Betrayal
12:47 p.m.//04.01.06
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