Thursday, December 29, 2005

A Facial in Jail

You know, visiting my Papa Bear totally sucks. I just spent a whole night eating Fettucine Alfredo while watching DVDs on a 50-inch LCD TV. THEN, as if the night couldn't get any more unbearable, we drank Shiraz in the hot tub and I got to take my new bathing suit for a spin.

Life can be really, really shitty.

So my pores are clear, my aching muscles are soothed, and I am drunk. I cannot wait to come home. This place is like being in prison. A spa prison. Mud wraps and Evian in the YARD? Gag me with a spoon.

I even heard a scary story that disturbed me. My stepmama's bro managed to get me all flustered with the story of Shumann the Sheetless--ooh, I can feel the goosebumps prickle on my skin just typing it. Picture a middle-aged man who lives in a nice house. He keeps to himself, but is successful in the working world and manages to have some friends and play poker and stuff. The only thing is, he doesn't put sheets on his bed. No sheets anywhere.

So I'm assuming that if Shumann ever has sex, it's in some kinky place where his partner won't discover that Shumann shuns our culture and goes sans bedclothes. "Sorry honey, no vanilla sex tonight. We're fucking up against the fish tank like we always do."

Creepy. I've spied upon many a bed that could use clean sheets, but not one that was completely without. What other social norms could I not live without? I probably couldn't be with someone who totally despised the United States Postal Service...or someone who doesn't watch TV. Maybe someone who hates chocolate? Out of the question.

Battery on the wireless keyboard is dying. Must wrap up. Will be haunted tonight by images of sheetless beds and the Blair Witch twigs behind our suburban house. Don't ask...although, for the record, when I run into the Satan worshippers while taking out the garbage or something, I'll be sure to ask them if they have sheet sets on their beds. I bet they do. And I'll bet they invest in blood red satin ones, just to keep in step with the whole sacrificing/killing/voodoo that they do so well thing that they do (so well).

basement! g

1 Comments:

At 9:14 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ben Reddell's bed was sheetless for a very long time.

Rock stars don't need linens.

 

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