I dunno, maybe late at night taquitos and tangerines are interesting to me.
In the light of day, they seem rather inconsequential.
I met a man at Saturday's party who was a walking haircut blog.
Everyone is usually cool at that party, so I mistakenly assumed this bald fart who looked like Chris Elliott was a photojournalist or writer of some sort.
Turned out he was a fucking real estate agent whose burning desire was to do voice-over ads for himself on a local FM soft rock radio station.
He was the most boring shitheel in town.
He cornered my friend Elaine and I overheard him telling her what he fucking had for dinner, right down to the salad dressing.
I strolled over and said, "Wait, did I hear you telling her what you had for dinner?"
Then I walked away before he could answer, snickering at Elaine.
So later after he's had a snootful, he eyes me up and down and in his Foghorn Leghorn voice, he says, "So, whatter you, like just one of the guys, er what?"
So I said, "Yeah, motherfucker, and I tell people when to shorten their already too fucking long stories, just like a dude would."
So he's so stupid, he asks, "Whaddaya, think my stories are too long?"
So I said, "Man, you tell salad dressing stories."
All I could envision was him, sitting at a keyboard, blogging about his last fucking haircut.
As the party progressed, I approached my straight pal Tommy, the photojournalist who brought haircut blog with him to the party.
"Hey Tommy, what's with the fucking bore you dragged in?"
"Shit, I dunno, he's my Realtor. He asked what I was doing tonight and I said I was going to a party."
"And he asked to come?"
"No, he asked what kinda party and I said 'uh mostly a party for the gay and lesbian community.' "
"And he came anyway?"
"Yeah, I guess he's an equal opportunity bore."
Anyway, if you see a blogsite called "What I had for dinner," avoid it. It might be him.