My mind is a weird place. I am not unusual in this regard. I am perhpas unusual in the frequency and variation of my peculiarities. Evidence: I argue with pretty women about global warming and then they decide that they never want to see me again. Also, I refuse to date anyone that voted for Bush in 2004. That kind of willful disregard for the truth is the same as denying global warming. Further evidence: This paragraph. I did not start this paragraph to talk about global warming and how it is destroying my love unlife. I started it to somehow find a way to segue into the claim that my mind is a strip club.
Rather like the nudity buffer or the water closet of Patrick's love, I am constantly bombarded with boobs in my bored brain. Either that or I should drink more water because I am becoming dehydrated by the sudden onset of 80 degree weather in DC. I am not complaining about the heat, I am merely adjusting to it.
Perhaps I just wanted to share a funny thing I said in reference to the Spice Girls:
"They dance for me, every now and then, in the strip club of my mind."
Memories, in the strip club of my miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind.
And now a little something from Jeff, my favorite character on TV ever and the one I probably resemble most (definitely NOT fucking goddamn dumbshit CHANDLER):
Jeff: When God made the arse, he didn't say, 'Hey, it's just your basic hinge, let's knock off early.' He said, 'Behold ye angels, I have created the arse. Throughout the ages to come, men and women shall grab hold of these, and shout my name!