Sunday, March 02, 2003
I'm Hooked On A Feeling
When I grow up, I want to buy one of those vibrating massaging foot baths. It's just a little plastic tub with foot contours in it and a cord running out from underneath. So when I graduate to adulthood, as I was saying, I intend to fill one with rubbing alcohol, take off my clothes, turn it on, and sit in it reading a book until my ass goes completely numb. That's all I've got so far. It's good to set goals.
Meanwhile, back here in the present day, I've had a few ideas that I'm dumb enough to contemplate but smart enough to refrain from attempting. For instance, there has to be a way to padlock a drive-thru window from the outside. I could be something of a vigilante health nut, depriving drunk barflies of big bacon classics and bean burritos. Very noble. I would use combination locks. If I used keyed padlocks, nobody stupid would waste time trying to guess the combo.
Then there's the game I call Poop in a Old Shoe. It's a solitare game that doesn't need any cards, just some old sneakers and one dedicated bowel mover. You can demostrate the old water in the bucket scientific principle by twirling a full shoe by the laces. Be careful.
That's what goes through my head when I spend too long sober. On that note, I'm off to drink enough to satisfy a mid-sized Arkansas family. Good night.
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