elegy

Obviously a fitting memorial for your used blow-up doll would be "by the sidewalk next to a supermarket." Duh. No brainer. Let's pretend for a second that I understand the logic there, and move on to other things. Other things like, for example, what in the crap you'd be doing at the supermarket with your blow-up doll. I will accept the following answers: 1. You keep your shopping list in her big old mouth, 2. You were using your blow-up doll as a cape of some sort, 3. You wanted to take the carpool lane on your way to buy some eggs, but no one alive or un-inflatable was available, and/or 4. You get lonely at the supermarket, like REALLY lonely. Let me describe for you the sequence of events that occurred on the lovely Sunday afternoon when I found our friend here: 1. We leave the supermarket with our supermarketly purchases. 2. We exit the parking lot. 3. While turning out of the lot, I remark to Justin, "Is that a blow-up doll?" 4. Silence. 5. Justin pulls over and I jog 50 yards back to verify that it IS, in fact, a blow-up doll. 6. I take pictures, because this is the kind of thing you must document, because it is ridiculous. 7. I jog 50 yards back to the car, faster this time because EWWW THAT WAS A BLOW-UP DOLL. And here we are now, discussing said blow-up doll. People, I don't judge. Maybe there's a really good reason to take your blow-up doll to the market! Maybe you felt like she deserved a greater role in your domestic life. That's nice. I'm not even going to ask. But... What is it that made you leave your... good friend... on your way out of the parking lot? Did you get into a fight? Did you feel like that was a fun place for her to hang out? Were you just getting her some... air... or something? Or, maybe you thought she was right back there in your backseat, chillin' with the lettuce you'd just bought, when she flapped secretly out the window. Well, I hope you didn't get home and freak out, like, "So, Gladys, should we make ziti tonight- NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" Either way, if you... need... your friend back, she's still at the supermarket. Better hurry before some kids start poking her with sticks. Perv.

Comments

[peaches]

I made the grave mistake of eating breakfast while reading this account. Your photos' raging grotesqueness has made it increasingly difficult to swallow. As my mind wandered to fill in the blanks in this story, my stomach strongly disapproved.

Ugh.