Do I get my lap dance now?
Your grandsons, they won't understand.
Yuck. Moving out is scary. I don't want to, but I know I
have to. Isn't that just yucky? I'm so afraid. I'm gonna
miss my womb. That's what my bedroom is. It's my little
womb covered in Aerosmith posters and dirty laundry. It's
my little safety place, ya'know? I've lived in it for
eighteen frickin' years! This is the kid that's wanted to
move to Texas for the past three years. Now I'm afraid to
move across town. And I'll be living with some kid named
Jeremy whom I've only met once. Maybe twice. Yuck.
Moving out is scary. I'm so afraid. What if they don't
want my dog? Don't you have to pass doggie tests? Or
something. Like, the dog has to be nice and weigh less
than 60 pounds. Or something. My dog is a frickin'
monster. She weighs, like, 130 pounds. At least. Maybe I
can lie. I'll tell them she's a labrador mix, and those
are generally small. And lovable. And that she loves
children. And long walks on the beach.
I hope they don't mind dogs. I need to call them tomorrow
morning. I need another job, too. Damn you, Seattle
Mariners. I don't think I'm really gonna artificially
inseminate turkeys. I'll probably wash dishes or windows
or... old people. Ooh, I hope I don't have to give old
people sponge baths. I'd rather inseminate turkeys.
Current mood: intrigued.
Current tunes: The Strokes - Barely Legal
Current advice: Drugs are bad.