Punish me with kisses, parking

Ohhhh, internet, internet. This monkey was at the other end of the hall. He is also sultry. I should have checked the other floors for enticing wildebeests or come-hither warthogs.

I know you are wondering where I’m parking during this latest snowstorm. As it turns out, I’m parked in the driveway. Suck it. I never thought having a parking space would be so exciting until after I lived in Somerville. I used to feel like the biggest asshole leaving a table in the space after I dug it out, but if I didn’t, someone else would do it right back to me. And if you move a table to park, you get a brick through your windshield. It is the Code of the Jungle.

The pedantic church bulletin board down the street says “Do unto others as if you were others.” My first thought was that they meant that one should do all one’s dirty deeds under an alias or assumed identity. That’s how I usually work anyway. I am right with the Lord.

Yesterday I didn’t take my Mother’s Little Helper, and when I realized it, I thought “Wot’s the worst that can happen?” See, crazy people are always looking for an excuse to stop taking their medication. We feel better, so we must be cured. Well, I guess, kinda. I’m not curled up in a ball* weeping, so that is a huge plus. But I do get the sensation of an electric shock to the middle of my chest every time I move my head. This is not entirely unenjoyable. I like pills in a universal sense, and I also like negative pills. Good day to you, too. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a yogurt** with my name on it.

*With my small frame, I can curl up into a very small ball.

**Tonight is quesadilla night instead. Satan demanded Thai pasta last night, at totally the last fucking minute.

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