Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Edible Brain Sloth

Well, I forgot my camera again today. My brain is not actually a brain but is instead a massive bolus of oatmeal. I think there might be some peanut butter in there too. If a zombie comes along and eats my oatmeal brain he may pleasantly surprised. Or disappointed, depending on what kind of zombie he is. Well, when he stops by I'll let him know ahead of time that I have an oatmeal brain and not the smooshy, bloody brain he may be expecting. I mean, if he doesn't like oatmeal anyway (or is allergic to peanuts) then I've saved him a lot of trouble. I didn't write a thing during my vacation. Nothing. Part of the problem was that I bought a hefty book called "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell" right before I left and since it was 850 pages long I figured it would last me at least a week. I finished it Tuesday night. Really really good book. Anyway, the language of the book is this old fashioned, proper English in which people "shew" each other things instead of just showing them things and everyone speaks in this clipped, prim manner and I don't know if this ever happens to you, but try as I might, I couldn't stop thinking and talking the way the people in the book did. This always happens to me. After I read "Bridget Jones's Diary" the pronouns that normally reside comfortably in my vocabulary vanished for about two weeks. It was very embarrassing in hindsight, looking back and realizing that I had been writing in incomplete sentences and considering myself so fabulously witty the whole time. Well, after a week of dancing around like Rumpelstiltsken, pointing and laughing at Ophelia's slow-churning, pathetic attempt at being a storm, she decided to come up to Boston on the night I flew out and bitch-slap my dumb ass by delaying my flight for three hours. Lesson learned. Don't make fun of hurricanes because they might notice and come kick your butt. I started the book in the airport and after finishing the first two chapters I called my uncle to tell him that a sandwich I had just attempted to ingest at the airport lounge was "positively wretched." Regrettably, it was all downhill from there and hence I began to use words like "hence" and "regrettably." Since I was unable to retain any sort of grip on my own dialect I found myself unable to write until the problem passed. In the meantime, all sorts of things happened which I'll tell you about tomorrow. For the moment I fear I must end this post for it is tea time and tiny cucumber sandwiches await me in the parlor. Farewell! P.S. Yes, that last photo was chosen for its resemblance to a clitoris. The story will be hitting Slothville soon, just as soon as I find the words for it. They're somewhere in the oatmeal.