Dionne, Rosie, & Me....& a Unicorn

My wife asked her sister if "plumpy" was a word. She said, "of course it is". "Use it in a sentence."
"Rosie O'Donnell is very plumpy." Her speechless reaction simply said to me, "Either I'm a moron or she is". I'm joyous over that. I have something to keep her occupied with while I scheme an outline on how I can convince her that paper cards with drawings of really weird crap can tell the future, especially if you cut the deck. I hope no one's thought of that yet.

What ever happened to psychic friends? I had a few that said they cared....about my ongoing phone service, but if they were really my friends, they'd call me once in a while. I haven't heard from Dionne in years. I wanted to be a psychic friend, but of course I'd have to do it my way. I would have the best gimmick that $2.99 per minute could buy. I'd be a mime with anger issues. I could totally cuss people out and they'd stay on the line to keep asking me what I said. Of course eventually the customer would hang up, but I'm a mime, I'm above that.


Mimes don't need people to approve of their lifestyle. We have a dignity and self respect that surpasses that of normal individuals. We can climb ropes, pull things toward us, and be trapped in a box in a single afternoon. Plus, we don't even need the first amendment. We even pretend to cry just to get the sympathy of children and their lower middle class parents, so we can brag to our friends at the coffee shop in the middle of their poetry and bitching about the government........

until one day....



we're impaled by unicorns.