Well, heck. I guess we made it to another issue. I went to enter a story, and when I got it posted, my computer told me that it was June first. I donít believe this for even one second, but who am I to argue with The Strangelands? Nobody, thatís who. So yeah, the new month kind of startled me, as sad as that is. I knew it was coming but I was trying to slide one more post in before the new issueóI do that sometimes, just shoot one in there, right under the radar, and nobody ever sees it unless they check back issues. Itís like playing a really dumb, boring game of hide-and-seek all by yourself. But itís never taken much to entertain me.
No time for that, I guess. SoÖhere we are. (Uncomfortable silence that stretches on and on)
Screw this, Iím getting drunk. (a couple of shots and a cigarette later)
So I guess I watched the Miss Universe contest the other night. Just for a second, and I only know what it was because my princess told me. Youíll never believe this, but I got the swimsuit competition entirely by accident. I just happened to be in the bedroom when the announcer started going off about how this is his favorite part of the competition, blah, blah, blah, making stupid-ass jokes left and right. And then they go something like, ďThis part of the competition is judged on style, confidence, and poise.Ē Something like that.
And I thought to myself, what a load of crow shit. I can show confidence without getting anywhere near a swimsuit. But this isnít about the needlessness of a swimsuit competition to judge poiseóIím sure there are roughly sixteen million feminist websites talking about that, and this isnít one of them. Frankly, I think we should use swimsuits to judge everything. The waitress comes up, ďHow is your salad?Ē ďHmm, let me see. Strip down to your undies, take sixteen steps that way, spin, stick your leg out for a second, and then walk back, and smile the whole time.Ē
Iím all about judging a book by the cover. ďNo, sheís really nice, sheís funny, sheís smart, youíll really like her.Ē ďHoly visual nightmare, Batman, look at those stretch-marks! No, Iím sorry, I canít be your friend.Ē Iím no prize to look at, either, but thatís how ultra-cool I am, is that you want to be my friend even before you can be repulsed by the way I look. My coolness travels faster than the speed of light.
Anyway, back to the Miss Universe thing. So the women start parading themselves out for the entire planet to ogle, and one of them trips. She didnít fall, but it still completely ruined her chances at winning. Because I donít care how beautiful you are, you look like a dumbass when you fall. You get that goofy look on your face, sheer surprise, thereís no recovering from that.
Okay, Iíve been talking to our favorite admin for the past few hours, Iíve been ranting and raving with him, and Iíve been throwing down shot after shot. Basically what Iím saying is, now I canít see straight, and the word ďnounĒ is just some sort of mythical beast that eats children and small dogs. Proper English is a fairy tale.
What Iím saying is, I gotsta go. Welcome to June, boys and girls, I hope you like it.