We’re not the same, we’re different tonight

So Louise got stuck outside a porn store in Miami-- I reckon it's always best to start these sort of stories en media res-- and called me on the phone to tell me so. It's good to have these kind of friends.

( Meatworld affairs, probably very boring to everyone else )

Every time I gear myself up to write about either the O'Hare airport or the Oscars, I find myself shrinking the entry to the point where it becomes "I think this anecdote would be funnier if I were being played by Tom Hanks with a pseudo Bulgarian accent" or "You know what, I think the Best Picture award should have gone to Brokeback Mountain but as long as we're giving the awards away to songs like It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp I will totally be disappointed if Snakes on a Plane does not win best picture next year."

I wonder how hard it really is for a pimp. Does the constant hand motion of going upside a prostitute's head give you carpal tunnel or something? Is there a medical name for this? Ho Smacking Syndrome? Or is it more about how hard it is with constantly having to buy glitzy suits and hats? Because, yeah, I guess there's some fashion pressure right there. No one wants to buy from an inadequately fashionable pimp. If the feather in your hat isn't the exact right length, it probably sends a message.

Shit, man. I never knew how hard those pimps really had it. This was totally a social message sent out by the Academy.

Anyway, here is a lot of AIM about Reno, girlscouts, taxes, drugs, Utena, and vague origin explanations behind the Siegfried Sassomophone/Sun Billy Joel Moon drabble request. Click at your own discretion.

( It's so nice to be able to rely on other people to be funny for me )

I'm serious about the drug thing, if you managed to find that embedded in there. What are you?