What were the sentient cookie's last words?

See you in two weeks, buzzards!

Diction'ry Corner: "Irony"

Example: "Hildie complained about the irony taste of her Peach Snapple®."

-also-

Said thing A: "My weathercock has rusted East."

Said thing B: "How ironic."

I think I over-inflated my bed

Geez, it's like luxury planking.

Britain on the brain

I'm going to England a week today and I think the excitement is getting the best of me. I had the craziest moments of synchronicity today. No word of a lie, on my way to work today, I saw this puddle shaped like mainland England. I know what you're thinking, "Urg! What, are you blind? That doesn't look like England!" And to that, I say, geez, it's not an oil painting! It looks enough like England like a Mazda grill looks like the face of a robot cat. Plenty. Anyway, it looked enough like England to trip me out. So then this coincidence was solidified by me running into a guy from the British consulate when I was catching the elevator. I wonder what kind of UK energy I'm drawing to myself. Maybe I'm responsible for all this shit weather we've been having too. And I wonder what it means for my trip next week. It's an awful lot of pressure if these signs are telling me there's something I'm supposed to be doing. I hope they don't hear about the things I've been saying. 

Today, in [fake] news!

Headline: "67 and growing: Their numbers may be fewer than their freckles but, against mounting persecution, the Israeli 'Ginger Mov't' gains steam."

Looks like someone has a death-wish!

Here's a clue...

Hmm... that didn't come out too clearly. How about this...?

It's really quite a serendipitous picture if you know what I'm referring to. Or, "To what I am referring." (eff off)

Huggies® Hotpants

Actually, with the right shoes, this could be quite the outfit.

There you have it!

I knew someone was using that chair other than me.

Something really must be done about these urban ducks!

I did a bad thing...

I consider myself a truthful person. Almost truthful to a fault. So truthful, in fact, that I often feel compelled to confess the most minor indiscretions even if there's no way I can get caught.

If you know me well, you know that circumstances made me leave my apartment recently. Within one week, we had broken our lease, found a new place and completely moved in. (Which is great because before I lived directly below a tone-deaf-crack-smoking cripple who was apparently above reproach.) Our new focus now was to get a 100% refund on our deposit. Let me first explain that we had only lived in that apartment for 6 months, and damage was minimal. But, for whatever unlawful reason, our kitchen countertop was made of wood. Yeah, like, peeled tree, wood. Like, the kind of thing you would see in a book about "The Life-cycle of Paper," wood. It was disgusting. So obviously we had a mold problem. But we were determined to get our deposit back. We had an inspection scheduled with our former slum-lord 11:30p so we were driving 55 to our nearest Home Depot at 9:30p that evening. We got sand paper, black-mold-spore-stopping-face-masks, varnish and high-tailed it to our former home. We sanded, scraped, polished and waxed, but it was still totally noticeable. Plus, it started to smell like we were huffing thinner in there. So we covered it with wet rags, lowered the dimmer and nonchalantly leaned against the counter when our manager arrived. The only way we could've looked more suspicious was if we started whistling or asked him about "them Yankees".

So he went from room to room, giving cursory glances at smudged walls, broken light fixtures and mysterious oil trails. His negligence became our gain when after 10 minutes he cut us a check for 1,400 smackaroos. (And then, $1,400!) My roommate and I smiled at each other like cats that raped the canary. I'm not proud of what I did, but he shouldn't've worn that skirt if he didn't want to get defrauded!