Thursday, July 9, 2009

Facebook, Bunnies, and Porkchops

I want a bunny. I want a bunny real bad. I want a black bunny. I would name him Frank Mills so if he ever got lost I could tell people I'm trying to find Frank Mills. (Yes, I know you don't get it.) I would brush his fur and take him for hops and make him do Patti LuPone impressions. When he was bad I would call him a fuzzy son of a bitch, but then I would feel bad about it and give him a carrot. Life with Frank Mills would be freaking awesome. So, yeah. I just felt like that had to be said. There's a point to this, I promise. My grandparents moved last week. Apparently, the people who moved in own three bunnies that just hop all over the place whenever they want. Irony. Crushing irony. I was at that house every single day of my life, and the day after I pay my final visit a bunch of bunny-owning yuppies move in. None of those bunnies better be named Frank Mills.

Well, you may be asking yourselves, "Gee, I wonder how Facebook is going for her." You're probably not, but you may be. So I'll tell you. It's pretty boring. I have 63 friends. I only actually like about 35 of them. Alice Ripley and Allison Case were both gracious enough to accept my friend requests, but so far I haven't said a single cyber-word to either of them. I don't plan on it, either. Guess I'm not very friendly. Or maybe I'm just not a stalker. Either way, I'm not having that much fun in the screeching hell of pedophiles and teenage girls that is Facebook.

So...I'm pretty much even boring myself. How long has it been since these posts actually ceased to be funny? How long has it been since I've actually attempted to make them funny? Most of the stuff I say, not just here but out in the real world, sounds funnier in my head. Okay, friends. I'm gonna make an honest-to-God attempt to show you folks something worth laughing about. Fail. Might as well pack it in and join the ranks of the chronically unfunny. Move over, Regis.

The main reason I came here was to chat about this video. You're not gonna like it all that much. I however, find it so perfectly marvelous that watching it fills me up with joy until I am nearly overflowing. Coming from me and my not-so-sunny disposition, that's a big deal. Thanks to this video and Caissie Levy's random comment about porkchops (in a BRITISH ACCENT, no less), I will never look at another porkchop without thinking, "I don't sing about pawkchups. They're nut koshah." It's kinda like how Next to Normal ruined the whole Costco experience for me. I simply CANNOT set foot in Costco without revving my foot and careening down the aisles on a shopping cart. I'm so immature it's not even funny. But really. I think my life's aspiration is to end up lying on the floor unconscious in Costco, surrounded by boxes and curious passerby. Not really, though. God, don't you people pay attention? I've already told you that my real life's aspiration is to go see Hair and then go lie in the grass in Bryant Park for the rest of forever.

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