I just thought I'd let everyone know what's been going on with me lately. Last week was a busy one with me trying to get my laptop Lucille II up and running again. But some other things happened besides that:
On Tuesday as I was driving in to the redundantly-named Nina's Coffee Cafe, my car was forced off the road by a Hummer and I was taken prisoner by a gang of rogue twenty-something blondes with cute asses and great tits. They took me to their sex farm in northern Minnesota near Eveleth and forced me to make love to them repeatedly and do other unspeakable acts like leave the toilet seat down. Fortunately, in gratitude for my teaching them how to achieve multiple orgasms even after drinking all night using only common household utensils, they returned me to my car the next morning and even gave me twenty bucks and a new pair of bikini briefs.
So on Wednesday, after returning home to feed Mimi my cat I suddenly received a vision from Mother Teresa instructing me to go to Calcutta and feed poor people and instruct them in proper sanitation methods. However, as I had some other things to do on Wednesday -- I had promised Bill Gates I would shoot pool with him at Costello's Bar in Saint Paul during happy hour -- I chose to interpret this vision as referring to Calcutta, Ohio. As a result I flew to Ohio and spent some time slinging dal and teaching the natives to thoroughly wipe down toilet seats in gas station restrooms. This turned out to be a most satisfactory experience and I felt pretty good about doing my bit to raise the standard of living in a third-world state like Ohio. I even made a mental note to make one of my Catholic friends light a candle to Mother Teresa if she's actually canonized and if she isn't what the hell is she doing coming to me in a vision. And by the way, I kicked Gates's ass at eight ball. He now owes me fifty bucks, the loser.
Later that evening I got an emergency call on my cell phone and had to chopper down to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester to perform some delicate neurosurgery. I don't really do this much anymore since I started blogging but it was for a poor two-year-old Ohio girl that had been adopted by Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt; since Ange is a close personal friend of mine I made an exception for her. It was quite gratifying to see the smile in the child's eyes when she came out of surgery and listen to her gurgling away in Ohioan. It was also nice to check out Angelina's tits and inspect her for new tattoos. So that was my Wednesday.
On Thursday it turned out to be another busy day. I had to fly down to Cape Canaveral in Florida and redesign some space shuttle O-rings for NASA. Good thing they called me in; some idiot had made them square and out of cardboard. I figure I saved not only the lives of many future astronauts but also singlehandedly rescued the entire U. S. space program by preventing yet another shuttle disaster. I got back to Saint Paul too late to blog, though, as I had to meet with investors in my Flirting Studio enterprise. We're looking at a major franchise deal but I can't really talk about it now.
Friday I flew down to São Paolo Brazil, never mind what for. I got back late Saturday, but still in time to go out to W. A. Frost in Saint Paul for cocktails. I had a little incident occur there that was somewhat disturbing, however. I overheard a bunch of hardbodied twenty-something males refer to my pal Tate as a fat cougar so I had to kick their asses, the insolent toads. I didn't do any serious damage to the boys but I did teach them a lesson about fucking with bloggers, goddamn it. Sometimes one has to make a stand. And if you're curious, I did bruise an ankle doing my patented flying drop kick. Apparently I'm not as spry as I used to be.
Yesterday I took it pretty easy. I decided to stay home and invent shit so I fixed myself a pitcher of Mexican Windbreakers and sat on the lanai and came up with about twenty new products, any one of which will make me filthy rich. The invention I'm proudest of resembles the little BreatheRight nasal strips but they're clear instead of "flesh-colored." I intend to sell them in pairs to college students. They attach to one's eyelids and hold them open so that one can sleep right through one's Macro Economics class after one has done about thirty shots of cheap tequila the previous night and still look like one is paying attention to every word of the dork professor's monotone delivery that pretty much repeats word for word the overpriced text that he made one buy for the course. I figure this invention alone will revolutionize both college drinking and economics in our great nation and buy me that condo in Andorra that I've had my eye on.
Oh yeah, last night I switched from Mexican Windbreakers to Captain Morgan and goat urine just so I'd be in shape for blogging today. Nothing much really happened after that unless you count the fact that Angelina Jolie snuck over to my place for a romp in the hay out of gratitude for my helping her little Ohio girl. Don't tell anyone, though; I have enough trouble with paparazzi as it is. I understand Ange does too, but I'm sure my troubles are much worse. I kicked Jolie out early this morning (after forcing her to make me pancakes naked) so I could get a nice early start on my blog.
So get off my back. I've been busy, for chrissake.