Saturday 3.02.02

I only very recently came into my own when I moved into the gutted iMac about eight days ago. Gotta love these blue plastic curtains. I would have moved into a PC, but Windows, dead or alive, makes me nervous. Fucking brutal. It's like that time I got some ass from a well-endowed hairdryer and ended up with second degree burns all over my nether regions.

Now I'm just settling down to some homemade rhubarb juice, spiked up with Dirtytail and an ounce of You-Know-What-You-Sad-Novelist. It's a Southern thing, you wouldn't understand. Because haircuts don't cost two bits anymore, do they? And ever since the war, my hand has had a very slight metallic taste. Don't even get me fucking started.

My sister had a fur coat. Got goddamn killed by The Greenpeace. They just burst into her apartment with golf clubs and cornered her by the coffee table. "How do you feel about your furry friends now?" they said. "Can you hear their souls shrieking for vengeance?" My sister was a beautiful girl, you know. Had to identify her by the dental records. I usually enjoy my monthly visit to the coroner, but that put a real damper on things.

Which brings me back to this problem of scapegoating in the the northeastern Pennsylvania school systems. That was definitely the leanest, meanest PTA I've ever encountered. I'll tell you all about it next time. Let me just say that the whole experience reminded me of that crazy weekend in Berkeley, except without the castrated spider monkey. You know how it is.