It's the Girls Are Pretty "Monitoring The Chatter" Weekend!
As reports of a rash of successful suicide attempts across the globe can attest, yesterday's personal regression assignment was delayed. Apologies to everyone who is dead, but Prettygirl had a very good reason to delay giving you something to read that would keep the bullets on the outside of your skin.
A month ago, Prettygirl heard the sound of people having sex coming from her neighbor's apartment, so she started recording them using a very expensive trio of parabolic microphones. The system was setup so that it would continue to record the goings on in the neighbors' apartment all day long so that Prettygirl would be free to go to her high-powered job at City Hall without missing anything. Naturally, the tapes picked up what sounded like a cold-blooded murder (combination suffocation and stabbing) that appeared to have taken place on Friday afternoon. So this weekend Prettygirl has spent every moment underneath a pair of earphones listening for the killer's next step. This has required the devotion of every circuit of Prettygirl's in-house network, and she's even had to hack into some outside systems to offlay some of the stress on her servers.
But that's all over and done with. After 38 hours of non-stop surveillance, Prettygirl discovered that the whole thing was just a big misunderstanding. What sounded like a combination suffocation slash stabbing was actually the sound of the neighbor's Golden Retriever giving birth to a litter of puppies. Unfortunately, this was discovered after the police were called. Guess who's being called a Nosey Norman in the laundry room of her apartment building.
So anyway, below you'll find today's and the one that would have gone up yesterday if Prettygirl could have afforded the bandwidth. Read yesterday's first.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Whole Matchbook On Fire Day!
Your brother Willy isn't allowed to light the candles on the cake because Willy has a problem with fire.
"Just this once Mom?" you'll say to her. "Willy's almost 43."
"And the only reason he's lived this long is because I've kept him away from matches," your Mom will bark. "Now light the cake on fire."
Willy used to love fire. Anytime he got his hands on a matchbook he couldn't help but light the whole thing on fire. He hated wasting one match at a time when he knew that the hissing flareup of all those matches would be so much more beautiful. Your mother kept a close eye on him and made it so that he never touched a match after the age of 14. She even wrote letters to administrators at his school. And his employers. She really does deserve the credit for keeping a disaster at bay. But you always felt she had gone too far.
Once you light the cake, you'll go back into the TV room where your brother is getting off the phone with a partner at his law firm. He's got a big case that's about to settle, and he'll have been getting calls ever since he walked through the door.
"Sorry Pal," you'll say. "Mom wouldn't let you light the candles."
"It's just as well," Willy will say to you. "That bitch has controlled me for as long as I can remember."
"Mom?" you'll ask.
"No," Willy will laugh. "Fire. I didn't even ask you to ask mom about lighting the candles for me."
"Yes you did," you'll say.
"No," Willy will say. "Fire did. Fire speaks through me. Always."
Just then, your Mom will carry the cake in and you'll all start singing to your Dad.
Happy Whole Matchbook On Fire Day!
Saturday, April 9, 2005
A Balloon Ride Over New Orleans Day!
Today, you'll soar over New Orleans in a hot air balloon. Your husband will have arranged it.
"I reserved the balloon that says, 'Show Us Your Tits,'" he'll tell you. "So we'll probably get the whole city to take off their shirts from up there."
Once in the basket and floating across the blue sky, you'll find your husband was right. It'll be like a stadium doing the wave. The earth below you will be alive with young women exposing themselves to God.
"It's glorious," you'll say to your husband.
"Happy anniversary," he'll say to you.
Kiss him. "We have a lot of work to do," you'll say. "Let's start tossing the beads."
Happy A Balloon Ride Over New Orleans Day!
