Things Are Going GREAT!

Don Ho is dead. Kurt Vonnegut is dead. I almost crapped my pants at the grocery store this evening.

I always had a soft spot in my heart for Don Ho. Any person who can take a marginally catchy tune and parlay it into an entire career is a genius. Plus, he was on the Brady Bunch once and his daughter is Hoku. Hoku sings Perfect Day which is another one of my guilty pleasures. I would never admit to anyone that I really like this song and that it makes me want to throw on a Speedo and run up and down a beach somewhere.

Every time I hear Perfect Day I think of Don Ho and now he's dead.

Same with Kurt Vonnegut. I don't think of him when I hear Perfect Day; but he is dead. I always liked Breakfast of Champions. I don't remember much about the book (although I can't really look at a hand-written asterisk anymore and not think it looks like a sketch of someone's asshole). I do remember that I liked it enough to declare in my mind that Kurt Vonnegut is (was) one of my favorite authors. Welcome to the Monkey House is also one of my favorites but I'm not sure if I could tell you why. All I know is that I'm going to go downstairs and take one of these off the shelf and read it again.

There is a huge zit in my ear. And because it's in my ear, I think I can hear it growing. If it's not getting any bigger, then it's definitely becoming more and more sore. It's also whispering to me at odd times. Mostly it tells me to buy a Speedo. It also reminds me that you should lance a boil but you should always just leave acne alone.

Then there's the crapping my pants thing.

This past week I've been avoiding foods that are bad for me. I've had diarrhea twice so far. Tonight at the supermarket I starting to cramp up in the bread aisle. By the time I got all the way over to frozen foods I was ready to explode into my khakis. The girls were there. I can only thank God for allowing me to avoid the same story being told again and again each Thanksgiving. "Hey Dad! Remember that time you shit your pants at the store?"

As I stood there in the store, trying to master my lower G.I. tract I could feel the sweat bead up on the back of my neck. It was painful and after about five minutes I was confident I wouldn't be giving birth to something horrible right there next to the frozen pizzas. I tried to work out worst-case scenarios but I was really focused on my sphincter. Eventually this emergency passed (in more ways than one) and now here I am typing.

I'm going to lie down now. I have Tiny Bubbles playing in my head. That should be enough to get me to sleep.