I have two tricks for falling asleep:
I lay on my arm, or
I burry my face into the back of the couch.
Or the back of whichever dame I've brought home with me.
So much so that when I woke up yesterday afternoon, my forehead felt bruised.
Which leads me to believe that perhaps these aren't my tricks for falling asleep.
So much as they are my tricks for dramatically decreasing my blood pressure.
Like when you wrap a rubber band around your pinky several times.
But let's leave your hobbies out of this.
Sarah Turpin went to Qatar recently.
You'd never see me over there.
They don't wear jeans.
None of their electrical outltes will accept my hairdryer.
While I was around the bay I read a bunch on Ted Bundy and John Gacy.
And then I was too afraid to go to the bathroom.
They studied Gacy's brain after his execution.
Which got me to thinkin':
I'd like to do something significant enough to have psychologists jar up my brain.
I'd rather not rape and kill a bunch of little boys, though.
I like girls.
But, I would like to do something so well that doctors say, "Stuff his brain in that coffee can when no one's around. I'm taking it home with me."
Maybe because I'm so good at fast dancing.
They talk about it at the funeral, I was so good.
"Did you ever see him cut it to Sandstorm? (looking toward coffin) He was a treasure."
Eventually medical scientists hold a press conference regarding their findings.
"Mr. Warford was such an afluent dancer due to a swelling in his prefrontal lobe.
We believe this may have been due to an abusive older brother, or sleeping too frequently with is face jammed against the back of a sofa."
1 comment:
I had stopped reading this post the first time I came across it because I assumed you had stopped talking about me in the rest of the body.
But I reread it today, and saw that you talked about your fast dancing skills, which made me laugh outloud.
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