With regards to the astronaut/attempted murder/love triangle tale saturating the news today, I'm reminded of something Matthew Perry said on "Larry King" years ago. King asked Perry how many Vicodin he took each day prior to getting clean. Perry (wisely) said he wouldn't answer that publicly because he said there is a tendency for someone in denial to hear a high number and think, I don't take one hundred Vicodin a day, I must not be an addict.
The diapers are, essentially, the one hundred Vicodin in the krazee astronaut story. Valentine's Day is approaching and, undoubtedly, some apparently functioning individual is sitting at his or her desk right now, gnawing on a pencil, and contemplating the harm of one who spurned his or her advances. The tripwire, however, is that now said individual can concoct an elaborate scheme involving glass shards, maple syrup, and a safety leash and still mull reassuringly, "At least I won't shit myself on the way there."
1 comment:
I love you. You realize this, right? Not enough to surprise you at 1am in a parking lot with a BB gun telling you I "just want to talk to you", but still...
I agree whole-heartedly that the gorgeous of this krazee lies in its skewed pragmatism. To wit: astronauts apparently use a "high absorbancy" pad during missions. Ms. Nowak took that idea and ran with it. Drove with it. Whatever.
I can only hope that when I finally drop over the edge of love's cliff, I am similarly equipped. What will I use though - my digital recorder? So boring. Hmm.
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