Das Ist Und Mini Pooch!

There's my brother and his new dog, Milo, who just a week ago could only be seen with a microscope. We're talkin' small here. Beyond that, there isn't too much to report, and certainly nothing of any consequence. I just ate a bagel with swiss cheese on it, and for reasons that aren't clear to me I'm sort of regretting it. I feel fat. I know I AM fat, but I'm not keen on feeling fat, if you know what I mean.

Perhaps I should color my hair black. Right now it's pretty gray. Jet black hair may be just the thing I need. And I could walk around with a begonia planted in my shirt pocket and frozen peas crammed in between my toes. That will show all you bastards. At night, I'll perch on the roof of my building and sing Bavarian folk songs and invite everyone to the Oktoberfest in my pants. If anyone looks at me or laughs, I'll jam my fingers in my ears and cry, "Vous n'êtes tout rien par la volaille à moi!" Which, translated, means, "You are all nothing but poultry to me!" It sounds really good in French, though, so I could care less. J'Accuse!

My girlfriend, Linda, knows that I suffer from what is lovingly called, "mental illness." But in the time that we've been together, I've not done anything insane. A little here and there, but nothing terrible. I get the feeling that she is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like I'm going to casually whip out my collection of freeze-dried fingers, or try to fly out the window. None of that is going to happen, as my particular brand of insanity is really quite boring to other people. Keeps me on my toes, though. My stupid and bizarre sense of humor, however, is often manifest, and people generally incorrectly chalk it up as part of my fucked up brain.

Tomorrow I'm going to have Easter dinner with some of Linda's family. My plan is to be introduced, say something witty and hopefully funny, and then curl up in the nearest closet until it's time to go. Naturally, that's not going to work, but I tell myself that I'll be able to get away with it as a way of coping with my crushing anxiety and paranoia. Actually, it may be the perfect opportunity to try to fly out the window.