Still you won’t suspect me

Oh, hey, I have a blog. I just can’t shake it. Like the bird flu. Like the parasite. Actually, I’m booking a vacation, or rather my assistant is. The parasite has no idea that I’m going to drown it off the coast of Tortola. What? Those things don’t breathe air? Now you tell me; I already blew the miles. Oh well. I’m sure we’ll be quite the sight on the beach, as it makes me request pineapple drink after pineapple drink… “and could you add a roasted suckling pig to that one, waiter?”

Other than those expertly laid plans, not much is new. I’m dreaming exclusively in Roxy Music, which is a little weird. In every dream home, a vanity is poorly installed. The new place suffers from some vexing construction issues, let’s say. I am not sure if we will actually move in. Hey, wanna buy an apartment in a flood zone? I’ll throw in the parasite, and this floor lamp from Target. Cheap!

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