Joe has ambitions. He wants to go to college and do things. He’s getting out of this small town, which is too close-minded to contain him. MAN. But Jane. Jane now, Jane baby, she’s his thing. It’s cool. She’s less of a girlfriend, maybe, and more of a receptacle. Joe talks, and Jane listens. She’s really great. Jane nods at all the right parts. Jane doesn’t want anything for herself, because she’s as dumb as a fucking post.

Thanks a lot, ninety-nine cent coloring book. Have we learned nothing from the diaper stalker? Women can be astronauts ALSO. Jesus, I am taking this crayon with me everywhere from now on.

In Other News

I think I mentioned I brought home a clippy mink from San Francisco.

“Wow, what a surprise, another dead animal,” remarked Companion, when Minky emerged from my suitcase. His days are filled with adventure, if by adventure you mean dead things, hot dog octopuses, and histrionics. He’s got it pretty good, if you ask me. But you shouldn’t, because I am GLIB, Matt.

Poor Minky the Death Mink came to me sans one eye.

“Sorry, Mario, the eye is in another castle.”

Well, rather than go through several levels, tubes, Sex Bob-Ombs, warps, etc, I have decided to build a new one. So last weekend I learned to solder.

As it turns out, things like microtoggles and battery packs do not come with instructions. Not even flailing IKEA doods. Who knew? I tried a couple of different ways, and then made a circuit between the battery pack, microtoggle, and LED light. Just typing that gave me a boner. I am going to put LED lights all over the house.

Also, Rancho Asshole’s embargo on new velvetry was temporarily lifted last night to allow the immigration of Imelda. The exception was granted on the grounds that I have not yet acquired a boobie girl. I told a friend yesterday that I was going to hang a curtain in front of Imelda for special viewings, just like in a letch mansion or something.

She has the same signature as my Pony Duo, which was kind of thrilling. One man? Workshop? I must know MOAR.

It was a close call. I almost named her “Mariah.” She looks a bit like a young Mimi, yes?

Finally, we ended up at Twice Sold Tales where I found a MINT copy of Vanna White’s autobiography, signed in purple marker to some character named “Princess.” Of course it was Princess. It would be kind of cool if it was to “Herbert,” though. I am also going to use the purple crayon to sign all copies of Vanna White’s autobiography “With Much Love to Herbert.” The end!