Remember how much I hate Fridays? Did I mention that I hate Saturdays too? I hate to be a killjoy, but weekends suck. Sundays don’t count because God wants us to lay around and do nothing on Sundays.
I’m moving home soon. People keep asking me how I feel about it. You wanna know how I feel about it? I feel frickin awesome! Not that I wont miss Cesar the cat crying at my window every night, the maintenance men coming into my room when I’m laying in my bed in my underwear, spending 30 minutes driving 5 feet on Hiawatha or not being able to buy myself fruits and vegetables. I’m just more excited for spending my days sitting in a hammock, being served Arnie Palmers and having my dad set up an air conditioner in my room (a true luxury at the Malmquist homestead). You may come and visit. My dad will make you a huge breakfast and take you on a tour of a local cheese factory. If we ask for ice cream, he will drive into town and get 7 flavors. He will tend to our campfire and if something interesting comes up in conversation, he will disappear for a minute and then come back with some printed out google results. Where’s my mom in all this? Probably playing the piano or checking her email (you can teach an old mom new tricks). Come and see for yourself.
I went to the zoo the other day. I stared at the monkeys and gorillas for about an hour. I felt that if I stared long enough, a zoo keeper would unzip the fur and my dad or uncle LeRoy would pop out.
Monkeys are the cutest of all wild creatures. Except for Christian the Lion. Have you seen that thing? Even Chuck thought it was “and amazing and interesting look into the wild animals psyche”. Ann just likes Whitney Houston...
Today I saw a cat riding on the front dash of a car. It was like sprawled out, soaking up the sun on the fricking highway. And I thought it was bad when people put those dang beanie babies up there.
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