03/22/99
Little People

There's not a great deal going on, actually. Sonya's passed out on the couch. The dog is asleep on top of Sonya. I hope that doesn't mean I have to go lay on top of the dog; it'd kill the poor litle animal.

I do love Roxy - she's a good little hound. She's been unfortunate lately, though, in bearing a passing resemblance to the dog in the Taco Bell commericals. Roxy has a good bit of terrier in her so she's stouter than the Taco Bell dog, but she's got a sharp little chihuahua face. She's heard all the requisite "Yo quiero Taco Bell" cracks over the last year or so and they never seem to bother her.

They're about to drive me, though, over the motherfuckin' wall.

There's this guy who lives in our building, right? He's kind of creepy, with a scraggly beard, pants that are a touch too big and nasty pattern baldness. I once heard him lecturing one of the security guards with a tale about an ex-wife of his who left him to go back to being a stripper.

Anyway, we go past this guy one day in the lobby and he says, "yo quiero Taco Bell." This was, like, last week. Last summer it was funny, dumbass. Now it's just sad that your only touchstone for comparisons in the real world are what you see on commercials.

Anyhoo, I struggled with the urge to whirl on this guy and say, "hey, that's funny! How'd you manage to come up with that?" or something similarly dripping with sarcasm. I figured it would be wiser not to make with the wisecracks with a guy who always seems one Blossom episode away from stark raving insanity.

This is funny. It was funny to me, anyway. I pulled into the parking lot of the post office this afternoon to mail a package. Immediately I'm confronted with some ass-head coming down the wrong way. I swerve out of the way and this moron is honking his horn and having a hissyfit in my general direction. I drive on up to the building, right? And this, uh...little person, obviously pissed, storms out of the post office, looks around, then hustles on his little legs to get in the car that nearly hit me head-on a few seconds before.

It was something out of Twin Peaks, if Twin Peaks had been filmed in Memphis.

Sonya and I ran into Kathy, Sonya's boss, and Kathy's son Robbie at Walgreen's tonight, too. Robbie was looking a bit grubby, which is the normal condition of the six year-old boy.

"How'd you get so dirty?" I asked him.

"People kept pushing me down," he explained, looking down. "Did you see my shoes?"

I looked down at his tennis shoes, which were devoid of laces.

"Where are your shoe laces?" I asked.

"I threw 'em away!"

Robbie is the coolest kid I've ever known.




Tonight's Music: Bob Marley, Legend, and Better Than Ezra, How Does Your Garden Grow?

Tonight's Art: The upper picture is a tasteless - yet tacky - scan from the catolog o' filth. I like it even better since I censored it; I assure you nothing was left to the imagination in the original version. I like the one word blacked out, too. Just what does your mistress intend to do on your face, anyway?





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