I Let My Fists Do The Talkin’

My Wife, The Ghost got voted back… hanging by a thread. I don’t think it went over at the screening very well and was fully confident we were going to get cancelled and became despondant.

While waiting for the results, Kirk and I watched an episode of The Bob Newhart Show, which I got on DVD. I’ve started renting sitcoms from Netflix as research for our projects.

I got the first season of Bewitched earlier, and was taken aback by a.) what an asshole Darrin started out as—why would you marry such an emotionless self-absorbed prick much less give up awesome magic powers for him—and b.) how fucking hilarious Endora was—she was really nasty in these early ones, shades of Patsy and Edina.

The creepiest episode was one where Darrin’s bosses force him to have this party (meaning Sam does all the work) for 50 people or whatever, including their client who’s a womanizing drunk (which they have a good laugh about). At the party, the dirtbag makes all these really unsavory comments about Sam in front of the boss and then in front of Darrin and they brush it off. Then he corners Sam and grabs her and starts forcing himself on her and she turns him into a dog. Which, granted, wasn’t the most obvious thing to do, but I assume she panicked.

Anyway, she tells Darrin and he flips out (he’s very wooden and angry in the early episodes) and she says “he was attacking me” and he says something along the lines “you should have taken it like any good wife would have.” Now, this would have been the point where she unleashes some Avada Kadavra on him or at the very least, flown out the window or something (she goes back to Mother in another episode for a lesser offense). But instead she makes him sleep on the couch. Lame.

He redeems himself by punching out the guy after he plays grabass with Sam (in his office) by punching the guy in the face. (Just like My Wife, The Ghost episode 3) He quits his job and goes home but for some reason the client, appriciating his moxie, signs with their Ad Agency anyway pointing out “some of my best friends have punched me in the face.” Dude, you have a problem.

This episode also contains an unsettling reference to body shaving.

The Bob Newhart Show I had never seen before (though I’m familiar with his other show) but I saw a biography on Bob Newhart and thought I should check it out. 70s sitcoms always seem weird and claustrophobia-inducing to me… too much rust and brown and orange and wood-paneling. Every scene looks like a basement. They all seem very flat and play-like to me, even revolutionary stuff like All in The Family.

The episode we watched was pretty stock sitcom crap and the online reviews said it took a couple seasons to pick up. But it had a couple of funny elements to it… completely bizarre editing. As soon as the punchline at the end of the scene came… the actors’ mouth is still open… it would just FREEZE, play a blast of the theme song and cut. The theme song was very jarring and not what I expected. The big yellow Cooper Blac-esque all-caps titles . The mundane credit sequence that was like Taxionfoot. So wonderful. I also never noticed that both Bob and Marcia Wallace had lisps.

I will work my way through the rest of the episodes on this disk and then I’ll wait for season 4 or 5 to come on DVD before I try it again. In the mean time, I’ll be seriously rocking out to my new summer jam

Are you over 80 years old and senile? Then perhaps you already shop at the Vermont Country Store . If not, prepared to be dazzled.

The web presence doesn’t really do justice to the catalog, which I picked up at my parents’ place this weekend, which seems more like a dumpster-diver showing off his haul. It was the highlight of the weekend, second only to seeing a squadron of tourists riding flag-print Segways outside the National Gallery.

The concept is basically “Why don’t they make anymore.” So this catalog digs up a moldering crate of Kraft Seven Seas Green Goddess dressing in some burned out attic and sells it to the public at $8 a bottle.

People who are vintage fans for the era they didn’t live in are salivating over Knoll egg chairs and original New Look dresses. The people who were there just want their Lollipop panties and Tangee color-change lipstick back.

When I sold lingere at the Hecht’s department store the summer after Senior year, the bane of our existence (aside from the constant defecation in the dressing rooms) were the grouchy seniors who bought the Lollipop panties that we stocked for some reason. They are the very definition of granny-panties… giant billowy cotton briefs sold 3 to a pack. Grouchy seniors always only wanted one pair, so they’d rip open the packages and try and buy one.

I’m going out of town this weekend; back to Washington now that my parents have moved down there full time (instead of commuting between there and Washington).

I’m upholding my recently broken record of getting the hell out of Dodge before the marathon starts. I’ve been talking to other veteran NY improvisers and I’m not alone in finding the pressure of the event a little taxing—late night shows in weird venues, hot BO-and-mold scented back rooms, socializing with drunken strangers—I’m too much of an old person to get into it. I usually fall asleep by 10 PM on Friday most weeks. (This is due to some sort of energy sapping insect or fungus parasite yet detected, I theorize) I don’t think I really enjoy the festival/convention model in any activity… consentrated fun crammed into one continuous weekend… less so in my home city.

I didn’t plan my trip very well. The train is more expensive than I anticipated and I don’t really have any plans once I get there. I looked up a college friend (also known for her old lady schedule) who moved down to study the Cold War at GW. We may meet up for tea or museum-going or doily knitting or something similarly old ladyish.

I panic-bought a couple books at the closest Barnes and Noble for the trip. I burned through that Harry Potter book pretty quickly and Harpo Speaks right before it. I don’t read novels really regularly, but when I do I finish them really quickly. I mean to read more, really. I bought a P.G. Wodehouse novel I haven’t read yet, I think, and a particularly creepy “How to Write Shoujo” Japanese book.

I have a lifelong passion for “how to draw” books. I always seek them out. The boom in manga interest has generated a lot more of them, usually with a sexed-up philosophy (all Japanese how-to-draw books devote inordinate pages to how to draw underpants, bras, shower scenes, general tits and ass tutorials). I was very tempted by a tutorial book on writing sex games (Amuse yourself reading the plot and character summaries of existing
Dating Sims and count the number of times a variation on the explanatory phrase “she’s older, but has huge breasts” is used) that outlined the 6 times of girls that appear in them. Six kinds are all you need and your set.

I’m trying to jump start my interest in writing more Girl Crush stuff.

You too can talk like a gypsy

Romany Word List

Plastic Food.

I just closed the book on the 650-odd pages of Harry Potter & The Half-Blood Prince. My enthusiasm for this cultural phenomenon has decreased considerably since I did the last book in 12 hours. This one I took two days on, but I saw three movies and went to work in that time too.

I waited to finish Harpo Speaks before I started it. I think I liked it more. Maybe if Harry Potter spent more time on the touring Vaudeville circuit and hanging out with Alexander Woolcott he’d win me over.

It has been brought to my attention that I am seriously difficient in updates.

I’m still relatively bogged down, trying to strike a balance between doing relatively nothing at my 9-6 (what happened to 9-5?) job and being too tired, worn out, and angry at night to complete any of my pile of graphic obligations, two of which have particularly demanding and indecisive clients attached to them.

We wrapped “My Wife, The Ghost” episode 4 yesterday. A 102 pilot completely shot by the 10th of the month? Insanity. We should get a prize for that.

On Saturday night I went and saw The Unlovables at the Knitting Factory. I went with Seth since he’s having Hallie play his show tonight at UCB. I didn’t know any of the other bands so I took off after their set, got some really unimpressive Vietnamese food before heading home to work. Now here, on Monday, I find that the work I did that night all has to be redone anyway because the clients didn’t like it.

My parents are moving all their stuff out of the apartment this Wednesday, after which time my mom will be a full-time Virginia resident again. They wanted me to take this furniture and stuff back to my place, so Sunday morning I carried two boxes, a desk, and a stool up to my place. Then we went over to the location and shot the Interrogation scene for six hours. I burned my finger when lighting a match and it really hurt. Then we carried all the equipment back to my place and ate.

I tried to watch “Bell Book and Candle,” which is shudderingly dull and lame, but got tired. I fell asleep before the penultimate episode of “Sakura” my evening Japanese soap opera. Next week it’s all over!

Dull, eh? I bet you wish I hadn’t bothered to post, huh? Serves you right, friends.

today is my birthday.

This weekend we went up to the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens for the opening of the oddly-ubiquitiously-publicized Gumby Exhibit. Gumby turns 50 this year, see, and so they have a rather tiny collection of Gumby sets and scripts and two rooms of memorobilia and two film showings. And you could meet and take your picture with Gumby LIVE and in person!

Art Clokey the mild-mannered beatnik creator of Gumby… no, he’s not dead… was supposed to “open” the exhibit, but his son came instead. Art had fallen and broken his hip. Before the screening, his son did the intro and mentioned this fact and then added, heartbreakingly, “My father hates being 85.” This depressed me for the rest of the day. Also, Joe Clokey and I have the same fisherman’s cap. Luckily, I did not wear mine to the museum. That would have been embarassing.

While the museum was awesome… a mix of weird and easily-corruptable interactive activities related to the practice of making film and television, historical artifacts (cameras, broadcast equipment, tv sets) and pop culture crap. We particularly enjoyed the ADR booth where you can redub dialog from “Babe,” the editing room where you can add new soundtracks to “Vertigo” and “Twister,” and the green screen room where you can rip off bits from “Wayne’s World.”

The Gumby opening was kinda all over the place. There wasn’t an opening ceremony of any kind until the 2 PM screening. We came right at 12, so we watched a Museum intern and none-too-adept public speaker labor her way through a presentation on how to make Gumby (and later, animate Gumby). It was long, so I wandered around the floor while Kirk watched attentively and asked thoughtful questions about the process.

We finally found Gumby after walking up and down the stairs being told “he just left.” We finally found him and sadly, it was another Museum intern, probably nominated for the job for being the shortest girl on staff crammed into the too-small, shoddy costume. Still, this was the only thing at the show that held the interest of the little kids dragged along by their pop-culture-collector parents. Gumby even did some of the museum activities with the kids (like the “make a flip book” video booth… where your 3 seconds of video get printed out for your cut-and-pasting into flip book). It was throat-cloggingly adorable.

The biggest “event” was the screening of an hour and a half of Gumby episodes from the 50s, 60s, and 80s as well as a late 70s art film and some commercials. The curator or president of the museum did a particularly boring and creepy introduction, thanking all the people who helped set up the exhibit, giving a play-by-play of who talked to whom about how the exhibit came about, asking the hard core Gumby obsessive super-fans (obese people in homemade Gumby shirts) to put the museum in their will so when they die their 4000 happy meal toys and ebay finds will be “taken care of forever.”

As this speech was going on, the costumed Gumby make his/her way into the theatre, first lurking in the back unsurely, as the bored kids (including a toddler sitting near us who appeared like he might have been Joe Clokey’s son, or nephew or something) in the audience took notice and started screaming “Gumby! Gumby!” The costumed Gumby could tell she was drawing attention away from her boss, so she made her way to the front. Then the museum lady altered her speech to humiliate and indicate to the intern this was not cool. “We all know Gumby is very polite person who knows how important it is to say thank you. So he’s going to go away so I can finish saying thank you to all the people who made this show possible.” Uh oh Gumby, you’re fucked now. Gumby took a bow and clumbsily tottered out of the theatre. I wonder if Gumby got fired for that.

A lot of this exhibit was pretty unfriendly to kids—the displays were up really high, not at kid eye level. The boring speech. The too complicated demonstration. The overly long screening (kids can’t sit still for an hour and a half). Making Gumby go away.

Then as we watched the hour and a half of episodes which probably bored the pants off of any actual kids in the audience, I realized Gumby is probably designed more for stoned or autistic adults anyway. A lot of the stories just end. There may be a build up to some event, but as soon as the episode has filled up enough time it will just cut off.

No character matches any other character design in the Gumbyverse. Gumby’s family and Prickle, Goo, The Blockheads and that weird “Professor” are all brightly colored abstract humanoids (and animaloids). But the other “people” look fairly realistic, like Davey and Goliath, or doll-like (with real hair) or animal-like. Toys are alternately huge or tiny, sometimes he’s in a Earth-like world, or in that creepy “playroom” with the giant books he walks into. I suppose each book is a planet and the “playroom” is empty space, so when he seems to be in his house or a town he’s in a book called “House” or “Town” or “Gumby’s Home.” Who publishes these books?

The late 80s Gumby cartoons are the ones I remember most, though they showed all the old ones along side them in the 80s show. Those seem the most odd to me because they had refined a lot of the “look” to be standard and slick (wheras you can imagine ol’ Art cooking up the 50s ones in his basement. Thumbprints in the clay), but they kept the weird stories that just end. Added a bunch of new but relatively personality-less characters (a chicken and a wooly mammoth—both realistic) as well as some poorly understood “cool things”—rock bands, skateboards and a weird reference to “protein shakes” in the example we saw.

We left after touring the 2nd floor of the museum and eating at a conveniently placed fancy diner. “The Cup.” It was ok.

We bought some props for our last day of shooting on “My Wife, The Ghost” episode 3 at a strange Queens party supply store that filled up the better part of a block. It seemed to be catering to people who were planning to make EVERYTHING for their own wedding. 1/3 of the store was fake flowers in sizes from gargantuan to lilliputian.

I have absolutely nothing to do at work today. This has more often than not been the case since I started working three months ago, but now ALL the writers have nothign to do as we wait for the managers and techs to handle the final stages of “release” for an earlier game (that I had nothing to do with). It’s vexing since I have to be here, because it’s work. But then there’s nothing to do except download games from yahoo and then play them until the trial is over.

I think I’ve down loaded like 20 games in the last three days. I liked Inspector Parker a lot. The web-game is lame since you can’t get any harder than “level four” and the screen window is too small to make out the details of the rooms. Plus, if you lose, you have to replay the super-easy levels to get back to the challenging ones.

There’s no graphics programs on this work machine and it being a PC and my home hosting a Mac, it makes for compatibility muck-ups anyway. I recently got Photoshop CS on this computer though, but I’ve only used it to make concept art for shirts I’d like to make when I get around to learning silk screening. I ordered a kit from Dick Block online today.

Yesterday I didn’t show up (but said I wouldn’t ahead of time, which my supervisor tacitly approved) and we shot My Wife, The Ghost 3 for 7 hours while my mom was at work. We had a lot of trouble trying to schedule this date, and once everyone was assembled, it turns out everyone could unexpectedly do Sunday as well, so we’re going to shoot all day then to pick up the rest of the shots. Things actually went pretty smoothly for the shoot and we covered a lot.

Kirk wrote the script for 4 already, but was unsure about making it a “finale.” Just the fact that we’re losing our location seems to dictate we need to wrap it up, but he was thinking with 102 going dark in Nov and Dec, we should try and have one for every month up until then, self-cancelling in October. We do have 3 ideas for episodes we didn’t get around to, but I’d rather just wrap the show like we planned and if we decide to shoot them we’d do it away from 102 and put them on our own site or on a DVD.

This all is highly hubristic and ignores the idea we have to be “voted back,” but I think #3 is a solid, funny show (better than episode 1) so even if we (most likely) drop from #1, we should be “safe.” I also imagine there will be fewer submissions in the lazy, lazy summer.

We both have shows we want to do after this one ends. Kirk has his toys/miniatures movies and vague concepts of a superhero show. I’ve been writing concepts with Seth and we’d talked about meeting today.

I got my merit badge in NYC buses this weekend. I felt like I took a million of them. I like the subway, even in this heat, more than busses. I avoid buses…. I always feel like its going to crash, and more crazy people are on them, but most of all I dread that when I put my card in, its not going to work and then the bus driver is going to kick me off the bus. I think this is going to happen every time. It didn’t happen this weekend though and with the L train out of service, I took alot of busses (as I said before).

We wanted to have tea that morning, but once again, had no idea where Tea and Sympathy was. We got lost the last time we went and vowed to look up the address. But instead we wandered through several West Village street fairs and farmer’s markets.

After a couple hours, we gave up on tea and decided to go to the “Big Apple Barbecue Fest,” even though I felt a little uncomfortable going back to the exact area I go to every day for work on the weekend. There were banners and it was all very Hatch-Show-Print designy. Because of the bus issues we got there at 1 PM, and the fest had opened an hour earlier. We saw Chris Gethard just going in as we walked up to the park and he was visibly excited. Then he said he was excited. So he was visibily and audibly excited to eat barbecued meat from around the country.

There were only 8 or so vendors, each with one booth. This is unlike BBQ festivals as depicted on Food Network’s many “BBQ Showdown” time-waster programs and indeed the BBQ festivals Kirk has been to in Florida, where there are dozens of booths, all displaying as many banners from previous cookoff wins as possible. The booths are 5-storys of BBQ boastfulness; NYC booths are discretely rust and mustard colored and all match each other, declaring only their name, pitmaster, and location.

Chris made a bee-line for the fist booth, selling pig snoot sandwiches, which had a good 25 people in line. I looked around for a snoot-less booth and found a ribs-offering one which had… about 250 people in line. The lines were confusing and really unclear which line went with which booth. There wasn’t much in the way of crowd control. Kirk and I walked around a little bit and then decided standing two hours in line was bullshit and we took off.

We didn’t know where exactly to go so we wandered a bit. We eventually gave up on upper-lower Manhattan and surrended to the default of Chinatown, found the 4-5-6 and took off. Despite a lump of tourists obstructing the entrance, the Excellent Dumpling House was pretty empty. We didn’t share a table with a Child Welfare Counsellor having a meeting or two field-trip kids from the UN Summercamp being forced to order things they didn’t want from their bossy Chaperone… both of which marked earlier trips to Excellent.

As Kirk was getting change, the lady asked where we had been? We hadn’t eaten there in a long time, she said, and she was mock-upset with us. Kirk was kinda thrown… he said we had been there three weeks ago and maybe she hadn’t been working that day. I think maybe we were skipping out because of the tourists. I guess we had achieved a new rank of regular-ness when they know you, know what your regular order is, and then note your absense.

We walked back up town and met Neil and Julie to go to the MoCCA indie comics fair at Puck Hall. We went to their house across the street first to wait for Eric Drysdale (who had already been to the fair earlier to get Kyle Baker’s autograph), Kupperman and his girlfriend Chorky. We waited a pretty long time for everyone to get there and then went over. I had never been inside the Puck Building. It was huge inside, and there were a lot of booths; it was like a regular comic convention, which I hadn’t expected, only less free shit. It’s like those fairs that are really common/mocked in animes like Comic Party. I forget the name.

I regretted that I hadn’t thought to bring stuff to sign… not that I’m a big collector or autograph hound, but there wasn’t much to do and no real reason to talk to the artists unless you were buying something or had something to sign. I saw Charles Burns, Evan Dorkin (he had a real Staten Island accent) & Sarah Dryer, and Adrian Tomine. I didn’t see Dan Clowes or Sophie Crumb, both of who were there. Matt Freazel walked by a couple times wearing the bizarre style of dress a lot of cartoonists seem to favor—the “Crumb” mix of old-timey duds and slovenliness. I didn’t talk to any of them.

I ran into a couple of people I knew and had some insignificant conversations. I didn’t really want to buy anything, since I could just get most of it at a store for the same price later (and most of the mini’s looked attrocious). I ended up getting “It’s A Good Life If You Don’t Weaken,” since I’d been meaning to get it for awhile. Kirk got a “Paul” comic sample for free, I got “Paul in The Country” like a year ago and liked it pretty well. Neil looked bored, I’ll admit I got pretty bored as well. You could breeze through the whole place in 15 minutes and then… you don’t want to have spent $7 entry fee for 15 minutes so you go over everything again.

Like all communities centering over a fringe activity—comedy, comics—its probably more about and for the creators rather than the spectators. The con and the gathering is ultimately about doing things for their peers. That said, most of the indepentant and self-publishers I went by seemed to eb strongly in the “learning stage,” with some really shitty art displayed on many tables. Part of me is jealous of the focus (time, money, energy) that they have to put out their comics, but they were like the Channel 102 pilots of comics. Some of the freebees I got handed were even comics of people sitting around on sofas and talking (the hallmark of bad storytelling in two media!)

I still would like to do a comic at some point, I just haven’t found any story I particularly want to do. The guy who made “Paul” was a graphic designer for 20 years before putting out his first and it immediately won all kinds of awards. So, maybe in 10 years I’ll do that.

The MoCCA fair was closing so we decided to go eat something. Neil’s friend was driving in so he had to guide him through the tunnel. Two loud strange old people I didn’t know but apparently knew Julie had added themselves to the group and we headed to the Noho Star, which I had seen on Food Network but had never been to. It was like if Life Cafe on B had become really expensive. I don’t like eating in huge groups, especially if I don’t know all the people. The loud old people pointedly created the seating arrangement so that we got fucked, completely isolated from the rest of the table where the people I knew were sitting. I didn’t get to hear about Kuppy’s new comic or overhear him saying anything strange about spying on his neighbors. I drew doodles on the back of one of the worse of the free comics we had gotten but otherwise we sat in silence, pretty much.

We decided to leave after eating an appetizer, but that took impossibly long to come. Luckily, one of the wonderful elements of “local color” about the Noho Star is they have free hardboiled eggs at the bar. Kirk ate two. We got rained on during the walk home, so we went to Barnes and Noble for a while so the rain would pass.

When we got home I realized how sunburned I had gotten and then conked out and went to sleep at a ridiculously early hour. This happens more often than I’d like to admit.

http://masamania.com/archives/2005/05/fan_of_kishidan.html

Pictures of “Old-Style” Japanese Juvenile Deliquents, who seem to be popping up in a lot of anime I’ve been getting lately… A girl “saved” by the heroine from being in a girl gang is a common trope.

In a future Girl Crush installment I want Urine to have been the leader of a girl gang.

While you’re looking at Sukeban pictures, check out the rest of the site as well. Masamania is hilarious for a number of reasons, only half of which are racist.

I like in his swear-filled slamming of the Tokyo police he calls a well-known brothel “Soupland” and later corrects himself to the real name, Soapland, in a footnote. Soupland is much, much funnier. Whores + Soup = comedy.

Motherfucker!

It’s happened to me twice when I try to buy a domain for different projects… I look it up to see if it’s available. The next day I go back to buy it and some domain-squatter snatched it up. I’m pretty sure there are spiders that are watching people look up names and then buy them. I settled and got “InstantCinema.net” last time, but goddamn it, I want a .com. I hope the new owners of “liveactionanime.com” enjoy their poached domain.

Now I have to think of something else.

Episode Two of “My Wife, The Ghost” took the Channel 102 crown last night with 106 out of 137 votes!

Kirk captured a lot of stills from “My Wife, The Ghost,” episode one, to use as a kind of highly-detailed pictograph language on everyone’s favorite message board, The IRC.

Feel free to download them and mess with them to create “My Wife, The Ghost” AIM and LJ icons, wallpapers, fanart, and Krazy Kaption contests.

Enjoy:

I’ve been reading some other blogs lately…

Peter Payne’s Journal is by the founder/owner of J-List, which is a terrific horrorshow of Japanese crap culture and it’s all for sale. Aside from Peter’s major advocacy of J-Porn which I’m not all that into, he gives a lot of cross-cultural insights and updates of what’s going on in Japan. Very interesting! I read two years of entries in one sitting.

Eliza pointed out Craftster.org to me last week—specifically the fun-fur taxidemy—the owner of which has a blog as well.

What to give the little girl who dreams of unicorns… behing beheaded

Unicorn Taxidermy

Follow up that nightmare image cocktail with a chaser of Rat Fingers. Smoooooth

I don’t care much for working. You’re required to be at a place, regardless of whether there’s shit to do or not, so I’ve become even MORE dependant on active-timewasting and internet browsing.

Lunch is also problematic. We don’t really have anywhere to eat lunch, so we always go out. It gets very expensive, but I always ate out when I stayed home all day. What bothers me more is that “workplace lunch” is expensive and shitty at the same time.

Cosi is an abortion… $9 for a cold sandwich full of dogfood chunks on salty pizza crust. Chipotle serves, as Julie Klausner just identified, “diapers full of beans.” (That’s the food before you eat it and the end result of eating it.) And then there are “delis,” that NY institution, that my coworkers and I always default to. There’s like 10 million of these identically stocked mega-delis crammed with workers jostling around getting ass-salads and wraps. Give them glowsticks and UFO pants (or diapers full of beans) and you’ve got a rave.

I’ve become oddly enamored of Boston Market, despite the one on 23rd St stinking of homelessness and vomit spray, but mostly because it reminds me of better Rotisserie I’ve had other places. They also don’t offer a half-chicken that’s all white meat. And their potatoes taste like sawdust. Maybe I should seek out a better Argentinian rotissery to feel this need rather than eating this AIDS-food.

I also eat at Rickshaw Dumpling Bar twice a week. It’s like mall-Chinese food.

It turns out our office isn’t moving to Tribeca until mid-July now, so I have more time to explore and be unsatisfied by my local dining options.

Suggestions are welcome. I will enjoy complaining about YOUR favorite restaurant in the future.

Japanese Eyeball Glue Makeup

I think only the very rich can afford to be germaphobes in New York City. Aside from everyone having small apartments filled with crap and a constant flow of dust clumps in the air, things like “diswashers” and “garbage disposals” are a luxury here despite being standard lifestyle accessory everywhere else in the country.

My roommate eats a burrito everyday. I’ve never actually seen him eat this burrito, but I see leavings of it in the sink. It might be the same burrito over and over and he’s trapped in a time loop. I find burritos vile, especially beans. There are always beans in the sink.

I rarely eat at home. When I do it’s usually takeout Thai curry or tuna fish. I leave the dishes for these things in the sink for days at a time. I’ve taken to treating the sink as dish-prison. After an appropriate amount of time “doing their time” in the sink, semi-submerged in water and bean-filth, I declare my dishes rehabilitated and therefore, clean and ready for use again.

No visitor to my home will ever want to eat anything on a dish again. Good riddens! More disease for me!