So I came home from the bar tonight only to find two new roommates (luckily for me, unlike this guy, they were on the floor and not my face) ...something that has (well, past tense now) bendy legs, a long anennea, and can jump like the dickens and something else that had more legs than the rockettes. So I grabbed a purple shoe and did the deed, twice, myself, with no mans around (holla). Bringing home the bacon and killin' the bugs---mom would be proud!
Perhaps I should have a guiltier conscience, especially since I'm reading The G-d of Small Things (by Arundhati Roy), and I did kill two small things (though not that small). Hopefully I'll be able to sleep well.
Though I was at the bar all night, I unfortunately did not have time to ruminate about the wasteland--but here is a link to more poetry to tide you over and wet your whistles: http://www.kritya.org/03/en/index.html
Reading this made me realize that my former roomies will advance in their next lives and perhaps they will come into the bar and I can say, this one's on me guys--thanks for not touching my face in our past lives.
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