A day in the life

Ever since I met Anthony I rise early and jump online in sweet anticipation of contact. An email, a day log, perchance a chat, or a phone call. Today I got all four. Waxing nostalgic over first words. All a twitter over dusty logs freshly unearthed. Counting the days until I return to his arms. I'll be home for Christmas.

I finished my work project, and was treating myself to a hearty round of masturbatory bliss when Camille called. My Canadian-American lesbian friend from the days of yore rode into town and requested a meeting. I knew there would be much feasting, and merriment. To my chagrin, she is still dating this Korean girl appropriately named Ellen. I am not unhappy with her union per se, just that I would have to hang out with her as well. Camille has yet to bequeath to me a decoder ring. The few words of hers I do understand are uninteresting to say the least. We binged at a kitsch Chinese Buffet beyond maximum capacity. I don't have a weak stomach, however, the mere thought of Camille eating chocolate ice cream with potato salad and pineapples on top induced a bile laden technicolour yawn that no stomach of steel could suppress. We decided to finish off the cliché with a holiday movie.

Much like the modernized DiCrapio version of Romeo and Juliet, I feared Jim Carrey's version of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" was going to be a virtual nightmare. Both surprised me delightfully. Sure the saccharine Cindy Lou Who made me choke back some celery and ice cream vomit, but Carrey's Grinch was positively hysterical. I couldn't have casted a better Seussian character myself. Try as I might, I can't resist Jim's meglomaniacal brand of zany humour. I also can't stop spelling colour and humour with the British ou. Who the hell says jacket potato? There are no buttons! Daffy english people.