You think towels are good, check out my washcloth baby.
Wow, what an amazing life you humans have. Not having to worry about stress at work, or finding that special someone who might actually give you the time of day, then kids, then marriage. Not necessarily in that order, but you catch my drift. Anyway, she loves you and you...somewhat like her. And everything's just fine, until eventually after years of barely making it as a third-rate salesman in a two-bit town selling three-piece suits at two-for-one prices, you get a mortgage. But not on a house you like, oh no, you wanted the place with the built-in, self-cleaning barbecue, but not her, she wanted the condo that had the extra bathroom with the pink bunny curtains. But you don't like pink bunny curtains because it makes you look like you like pink bunnies. Which you don't. In fact, you happen to hate pink bunnies and of course you don't tell her that you have this deep agonizing fear of pink bunnies ever since you were five years old and that guy who was dressed up like the easter bunny killed your dad. And you're a wimp so you say, "Pink bunnies, oh how cute, they'll go great with the towels and toilet paper cozies." She laughs lightly, then you laugh lightly, but secretly you loathe the pink bunny curtains and the hatred for them grows stronger and stronger every day until one faithful Christmas morning you snap just like that and you rip the pink bunny curtains right off the wall. (Which, I'd like to point out, is not a very easy task) In fact, you happen to cut your left index finger climbing up the ladder and since you can't stand the sight of blood, you faint. But a split second before you lose consciousness, you take a look at the window and realize you left it open. So as luck would have it, you fall out. And as luck would have it even more, your loving wife, who picked out this exquisite condominium, also picked out one on the third floor. Now, you don't luck out enough to die, oh no, you just get rushed to the hospital with your neighbor's rake impaled in your back. But since it's a holiday, (and that nudie bar over on 27th Avenue exploded) they can't quite fit you in, so they throw you in the children's wing for a while. And as you're lying there in your two by three foot crib, you take a look at the windows. The windows so nicely decorated...with pink bunny curtains.
So anyway, like I said, you don't have to worry about stuff like that, do you? Well I do, it could happen to me.
Conversations
| Conversation Title | Latest Post | Latest Reply |
|---|---|---|
| The cat came back | Dec 16, 1999 | Jul 27, 2000 |
| Whatever | Dec 16, 1999 | Dec 24, 1999 |
| Wassup? | Dec 16, 1999 | No Replies |
| Yo! | Dec 16, 1999 | No Replies |
| Duh! | Dec 16, 1999 | No Replies |
Matt the Mediocre
Researcher U77784
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