Boiling paper tubs are requested.
A bad smell sea comments on the forest.
The ugly liquid's bored and disgusted.
But orange sky action's delayed 'til August.
At evening, dishwashers don't really work.
All forks are paint disguised disposable.
In insulation does Tony Blair lurk.
New copper Snuggies are combustible.
Food's edible for ingested bed bugs.
Waiters have their memories wiped nightly.
Many children were skinned to make your uggs.
Water to your health matters but slightly.
Jesus is turning the oceans to wine.
But don't worry, everything's just fine.
Lots of irritating distractions to-day. There's a broken dishwasher here and apparently I'm the only one who has the courage to acknowledge this fact, and there being no clean dishes here necessitated a trip to Denny's for breakfast. In the booth next to me was an old man who also, apparently, was having breakfast at 4pm, which I first heard alluded to when, after he'd ordered, the waitress, who was speaking to him in that patronising tone I bet a lot of old people hate, said, "You got yourself a breakfast!"
I was eating and reading War and Peace when I suddenly heard the old man cry out, "Hey!" I looked up in some alarm but saw he was just saying hello to a middle aged man and his wife who'd just walked in.
The old man invited the two to sit down at his table and I gathered that the younger man was the older man's doctor. The old man was thanking his doctor profusely for helping him, and the doctor asked him if he'd taken the pills yet that he was supposed to take before breakfast.
"Eh?" said the old man.
"The white pill and the blue pill. You're supposed to take them before breakfast," said the doctor.
There was a pause and then the old man said, "Uh, eh?" and I could tell he either had no idea what the doctor was talking about or he was trying to think of the right thing to say to, without lying to his doctor, reverse the current, serious tone the conversation was taking.
"You have to take those pills before breakfast," said the doctor. It sounded really critical.
"They're at home," said the old man.
A different waitress came to the table then, the doctor and his wife ordered, and the old man and the waitress had an affectionate exchange, this apparently being the old man's normal server.
After the waitress left, conversation continued in an affable fashion and the pills were never mentioned again.
While I was driving to-day, I suddenly got really pissed off that William Shatner doesn't admit he wears a toupee. I don't know why.