what's the difference (beyond the obvious) between an epileptic corn farmer and a prostitute with diarrhea?

i haven't blogged yet today, and time's a-wastin (have to get tetris in before bed, which is likely in 17 minutes).

i just told kevin this on the phone, but the tetris that happens in my head after a nice, hot, challenging game, when i'm falling asleep, is more competitive than you might imagine (as often as You imagine Me playing head-tetris). the pieces, they fall onto the block below, but not the pieces i need. it appears that My brain actually creates a game for Me. which is interesting. in context.

kevin and i just talked about context. a girl asked him if when he commented that warhol could be considered a minimalist, he meant "in form or content." kevin asked her if she was interested in conversation or academic discourse. sometimes i'm that girl. it's true. kevin knows--ask him.

tonight's autism ravioli score:

daily show/600-piece puzzle: 1
trying to force robitussin down throat: 0

now i have to go imagine kevin in the shower as i wait impatiently for the next L-shaped piece to fall. (that's not meant to sound predatory; we had an agreement).

i'm so bored with everything, including gallery art and red mill 10-grain hot cereal.


Ryan W. said...


Ryan W. said...

are you still sick. that's awful. I'm not sick anymore. it's boring to be sick.

bender said...


(and i'm getting better, thanks)