Cleaners on Vacation

This is a good rendering of where the cleaning products must have been while my apartment was being 'professionally cleaned'. Or at least that's where I assume they went, because it's taken a week to scrub the twenty years of dust off of my blinds, and the mysterious white fingerprints off the bathroom door (crime scene investigation, perhaps?). I finally live in a studio that I want to sit down in, thank goodness. Now that the place finally sparkles I can invite Paris and Nicky over for some cup o' noodles.
I can just see the bleach and the disinfectant wipes now, relaxing somewhere in Tahiti. Maybe they're even enjoying margueritas. Meanwhile, my clothes and silverware in their drawers are being ferociously attacked by bacteria. See them out in the ocean, panicking as the peramecium lunges for a sleeve?
With all this sand, sun, and surf, maybe this scene should be retitled 'Bleachwatch'. Coming to the WB this fall.

Turkeys Are So Dumb

My sister and I read a true fact during a board game (or should I say Bored Game, 'cause we were down to the dregs of activities) that turkeys are so dumb that they often look up in a rainstorm and drown. Poor guys. I can picture a turkey saying:
"I can't help it...They're so beautiful! Look at these little water thingies on my nose...aaccckggrrgh...chkkck" or perhaps
"I can't bear the thought of Thanksgiving. I'm going to end it all now while I still have my dignity. kkrrcchogjk". And then they just raise their dumb little heads and water rushes into their nostrils. We should teach these turkeys that drowning is so passe, so easy. The only way to go nowadays is with flair. Something along the lines of a crack-indused Post-Soviet mosh pit party in the Ukraine, with Kate Moss and Coolio, and you're the one who accidentally trips on a supermodel and she beats you to death with her high heels. Thank goodness you also remembered to wear your best jewelry when the paparazzi comes to photograph. Except that you don't see the lightbulbs flash, because you're in Heaven with the turkeys.

Tales from the rural world

I'm spending a little quality time in Western NY with the family, and though my modem is as slow as a slug (think five minutes to load google.com), I thought I might tell you some tidbits of Midnight's 'summer vacation'. The trip from Pittsburgh back home was 26 hours, when it should have been four. It included our truck breaking down on the highway near Zelienople, PA, and a truck driver named Biff giving me and my dad a ride to the auto mechanic. From there we were warned not to stay in the hotel run by 'sand monkeys', which I tried to tune out by telling myself that it's not a good idea to discuss Middle Eastern culture with a man wearing a greasy tanktop emblazoned with pistols and the words 'Proud to be American'.
I managed to spend as much time as humanly possible in every large media store while our truck was being fixed, and enjoyed some quality time with my dad over heaping piles of Chinese Buffet ( I do love that jasmine tea).

Back at home, with the downtrodden and mustached townsfolk, I'm happy to be spending some time with friends, going swimming, and watching my parents enjoy their new birthday present, the .22 shotgun which sits by the chimney. I wake up most every morning at 7.30 to the BANG! of one more evil squirrel getting blown to smithereens. My mom casually drinks her coffee on the front porch, coffee cup in one hand, and gun in the other. That'll teach those varmints to eat out of our birdfeeder.
We're also getting our first coffee-doughnut shop in town, Tim Horton's. For Gowanda, NY, this is maddeningly exciting.