My lengthy, lengthy shoes

I know a lady who had the fart burps, but she's better now. And I am too. I'd never totally gotten over the shame and self-doubt brought on by the fart burps, aka the stinky croaks, belch bombs or hairy hiccups. But now I realize it is no less than human, allzumenschliches, to have farts come out of your mouth. She said it's the Rolaids. Apparently Rolaids spell relief of gas and bloating but not of farting out of your mouth.

I'm getting ready for an interview (I think) on Friday in the Quirky. My wife, perhaps partly because she wants to see me get some use out of my brand new suit (which cost me $200 but really could have cost $400, I swear) suggested I wear it, but journos generally go a little bit more down-market. Besides, I bought the suit like three weeks ago and barely fit into it then, so I'd have to majorly fast to get into it now. And I anticipate being hungry tomorrow.

I will, however, wear the long shoes. I don't know when shoes got long, and how phallic the long shoes were intended to be, but I'm going for it. These fuckers are like three inches longer than my feet. Forget a sportscar; if you can get that cocksman reputation from a pair of foot-snugs, why not?

Also, my sister's coming in from Japan (good sushi there! check it out!) for a Quirkstop while I'm down there. I know she'll appreciate my shoes, even if you fuckers don't, so I'm glad she's making the trip.

The happiest of blogs

This is the happy blog, where only good things happen. Sometimes, in other blogs, people don't get the right color iPod for their birthday, and, like someone hit over the head with a hobo, they are "bummed." Sometimes relatives of the bloggers get sick, or they die or even lose their Internet connections. Some bloggers are just sad, not in the seasonal affective disorder way but in the so die already (or "So, Already, Die!") way.

But you won't have to deal with any of that here, cause I'm always happy. Sometimes I think about how the moments of my life are just ticking away, and I just have to giggle. Sometimes my children are terribly ill and we have to spend hours in some Reagan-foresaken moldy ER and I just smile to myself my secret smile. There's something just spectactularly wonderful about life, and I'm totally not being sarcastic!

So we're moving to Quirky, my sort-of-home-town, a decision we probably won't regret for several weeks. Join me on my wonderful voyage into ... the future!