Monday, December 11, 2006

Clean Up On Aisle 7

I saw my former boyfriend’s new girlfriend at Harris Teeter over the weekend. I use the term ‘girlfriend’ just because ‘My Pet Monster’ was already taken. Sigh. She’s an absolute tragedy. She wears slouch socks. That’s all I’m saying. Sure that would be lovely if she were dressed up to exercise with her "Get In Shape Girl" playset, but they’re completely unacceptable for the grocery store. Or the dry cleaner or the petting zoo or any other place inhabited by people who don’t look stupid (obviously the state fair and my former high school are excluded). She was probably using the power of slouch to help her shoplift, cramming boxes of Tuna Helper into each sock where they’d go undetected against her cankles.

She was wandering the aisles pushing a cart full of South Beach wraps and Coca-Cola Black (or Blak or Blech, whatever) which obviously means that she’s mentally unstable. That shit tastes like gutter water seasoned with coffee and hobo tears. And raisins, because nobody likes raisins.

She's just heinous. Like Sarah Jessica Parker, but without those few minutes and couple of camera angles where she kind of looks cute. My sister Runtie and I bought some Birthday Cake-flavored Ice Cream last weekend and we dubbed it the SJP of Dairy Treats. We couldn't decide if it was actually pretty good or really, really awful. So we mailed it to Matthew Broderick to see if he'd have a child with it.

Back to My Pet Monster... allow me to mention her neck and how it looks like the place where excess skin goes to die. You could craft a sail for an America’s Cup yacht out of her saggy throat flesh. I really don’t understand my ex's attraction to her. If he's no longer interested in aesthetics, he should just have sex with a lint trap. Or Sarah Jessica Parker.

I believe ‘Saggy Throat Flesh’ is her Indian name. Either that or ‘Dances With TJ Maxx’.

Really, I’m not horrid enough to hope anything truly awful happens to her, but this year I’ll be asking Santa Claus to bring her the gift of alopecia. Or maybe a rectal prolapse.

This is a pretty accurate representation of what she looks like:

new girlfriend

Compare that with me: young, supple, cultured.

quiet evening

Yes, that’s how I spent my Saturday night. I also watched Cops. Help me out. Do you have to have wood paneling in your house to appear on that show or do the officers stop by simply because you have wood paneling? Just once, I want to see the Boulder Police Department break down a door and corner a perp (that’s Cops lingo for ‘guy whose face gets blurred out’) behind the kitchen island where seconds earlier he'd delicately added a saffron thread to the paella he'd been preparing. They’d roughly shove his face down onto the granite countertop and haul him out as he kicks his Cole Haans against the SubZero appliances. All because his mangy, slouchy girlfriend stole a dozen Lean Cuisines by concealing them in the loose folds of her neck.


Dear Santa,
Just give them liver flukes and a skin rash.


1 comment:

John M Thomas jr. said...
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