What color is your time machine?

I phoned my arents-pay to let them know that my petite imp is locomoting on her hands and knees. My male arent-pay said, “Have you noticed that most green cars are driven by black people?” I asked him how this color preference affected him personally. He feels that people are simply not observant enough of minor details. But then he couldn’t tell me what color car “the orientals” drive. Observant my ass!

Then we had a lengthy chat about stepping out of the Matrix. I asked him to please let me know if he figured it out, as long as it didn’t involve a mail away kit from the back of a photocopied newsletter. So he will leave my refrigerator door open as a sign from the fourth dimension, as there’s a chance he might not be able to re-enter the Matrix once he figures out how to exit. The Matrix is tougher than Lollapalooza.

In other news, I am soliciting ideas for time-consuming projects that can be completed in the comfort of one’s invisible-bug-infested split level home.

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