Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Ode to a Legal Pad

Why don't you tell me who George Bush is. I think he rode the line between nose bleeds and heartbreak for longer than Tolstoy was having an affair with his sister's psychotherapist. But who really knows these days. Because when the phone rings and your coffee is too strong the only thing left to do is exhale and thank god for Cinemax After Dark.

I fell asleep in the sun yesterday. I was on a yacht and had just finished a bushel of grapes when a feeling of pharmaceutical malaise overtook my limbs. A night of slap and shoot meant that my face was still red and my hand was trembling from setting off those fireworks. If you want a mouse why don't you set some traps?

If you want me to dress you in leather and tie you to a majestic pine just bring me a tuna melt.

If you want a memory you'll never forget just call Moviephone.

If you need something I can't give you.

If you want something I don't have.

There's always next year in Jerusalem.

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