Yes, I ate whale, and I’m not going to apologise for it.
I went to the Dep to pick up some milk tonight, and on the way I passed a neighbour of mine. I guess he’s one of the guys who lives on the first floor of my building. He was sitting on his stoop smoking. The interesting bit was that as I passed him, I noticed he was wearing an eye patch. With jewels encrusted around the edge. Oh yes. His eye patch had bling.
And then, when I got to the Dep, the woman at the counter was watching the Sex Files! I take two steps in the door and suddenly there are boobs being flashed all over the screen. It wasn’t even the husband, or the young neice that sometimes works there either. It was the old woman who seems to be in charge of the place! What is going on in this neighbourhood!?
And today, for the second episode in a row, Seinfeld has been a freakishly accurate mirror of who I am. This time it was George, getting freaked out about his hotel bed being tucked in so he couldn’t move. I feel your pain, George! I feel it!
I’m going back to my escapist TV reality. (esCAPé!)