Oh boy, I accidentally ate some dip with mould in it last night. Lousy mild snap in the middle of winter. Frozen mushrooms or mouldy dip – that fridge is going to kill me.
Don’t ya love those situations where you eyeball some dude on the street and they match it, and end up being weirder, creepier, crazier than you, and you realise you’re not going to win, so have to look away and grin, thinking ‘boy, that guy’s nuts’.
I found out my little brother bought a sixteen hundred buck camera so I thought it only fair that I steal his sneakers. I haven’t actually seen the camera, but maybe at some point I can do a Chumps n’ Cheapskates review of it, because if you can’t afford a camera like that then you are probably taking too much drugs.
I haven’t seen the camera because he split for China (I say Shiner) on some agri-junket. Partly in Beijing (Bidge-ing) and partly in the wild-west northwest province, Xinjiang (children X-ing). I arksed him to bring me back a cowboy hat but I’m not getting my hopes up.
I really want to be friends with the middle aged guys at the post office. I go in there almost every day. After the whole bend over and be prodded in the passport procedure they know everything about me, including stuff I only just found out myself, like which ‘burb my dad was born in – Coburg – I thought it was mentone. My dad’s side of the family is the great unknown, and I’m awfully hesitant to venture in because of what I might find — that being almost certainly a long precession of mediocrity. One of those, If I haven’t heard otherwise it must be so, situations.
I don’t know much at all about the guys at the post office. Maybe I should apply for a job there. And then work there my whole life until I drop dead there — a man mediocre in every way apart from that he knew the ins and outs of the most detailed details of Post Office bureaucracy.