I thought I was having a fairly productive week, but now that I look around, the fresh flowers are dead, the mail has piled up, and there is nothing to eat in this joint but a dubiously speckled banana! Luckily the “domestic assistant” will be by later. I also missed the dry cleaning pick up because I was hopping around trying to put on pants, so I suppose it’s either drive there myself or decree that Mr. H purchase all new clothes to wear next week. Damn, damn, damn. Oh, and then there’s the little drinking problem I caught from Lambchop. It seems we have flavored coffee in the kitchen! I am bad at life!

But what I really want to talk about is fat goths. Dan Savage just knocked it out of the park on this one.

Finally, if you can’t let go of your beautiful-pretend-dead-woman fantasy, and if paying for it is a turn-off, check out the local goth scene in your area, as some of those girls might not be too spooked by your fantasy. But there’s always a catch: I’ve never actually seen an extremely beautiful goth girl myself — most of them seem to have weight problems, which has always struck me as strangely contradictory. From the neck up, the look cultivated by goth girls seems to say, “O, we despair of this world and long for the sweet embrace of death!” From the neck down, their look seems to say, “I’ll take the bacon cheeseburger, two orders of fries, and a Diet Coke, please.”

The Diet Coke just slays me! Because last night, in further bad at life developments, we had Burger King. Of course I got a Diet Coke, jerk.