Oh what a beautiful

Morning, worms. Today would be just the best day to cover myself in Fritesaus and beach myself on the deck until the birds pick my bones clean, but instead I am here for you. For you! Since “weblogs” all jumped the shark sometime last year, I am going to ram this baby right into the iceberg. Are you with me? I want to make this site (cite) the Cousin Oliver of the internet! Joanie loves Chachi, and they both love hearing about what I ate for breakfast. I want to be the Golden Palace to your Golden Girls. Bring it. Oh, consider it brung.

I was at the grocery store yesterday waiting to put in my order at the fish counter (should I order the fish or the fish? I KNOW!), and I got distracted by this pile of especially sensuous filets with glistening skin. I was thinking about how it would be great to stitch them all together and make a suit, and I was picturing myself wearing this suit up and down the aisles, and there would be music playing and lights flashing. And then I was all “Self, someone is talking to you, oh, what is he saying, respond with a pleasantry, oh, which one to use, ok, let’s try ‘hey, how ya doin’?,’ but you don’t care how he’s doing and maybe that won’t even fit, but let’s give it a shot anyway.” So I said “Hey, how ya doin’?” and asked for 3/4 of a pound of…wait for it…scallops! And then I went back to thinking about my fish suit, and then it was time to tune in again, and what was this guy saying to me? Honestly, how many decisions must one person be forced to bear? So I said “sure,” hoping that would do. I guess it did, because he handed me a bucket of scallops. I don’t know what I would have done if he had presented me with orange roughy or previously frozen shrimp. And I said “Have a good day,” and then I felt like a jerk because I realized this dude with the fading black eye works at a fish counter and shitheels tell him to have a good day for eight hours! There is no way he is having a good day! At this fish counter there is probably a whole underbelly of gossip and crab leg fights that I don’t get to see, and maybe that’s part of a good day. Maybe once he leaves and removes his scale-encrusted apron and lights a fattie in the parking lot he will have a good day. God. Everyone should light a fattie in the parking lot.

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