I’ve been watching archival footage of the genocide in Rwanda for the past thirty minutes in an effort to sober up (I often do this in moments of hilarity, like when Brad worked up the courage yesterday to ask me if I like-like him) but I’m embarrassed to report that the guffaws keep bubbling up like so much Veuve. There goes Umbeke with the saw again. LOL. Why does my abdomen continue to contract in spasms of glee?! Jesus, Kate Winslet—you haven’t made me laugh this hard since Titanic. Fire Crotch LOL.
I know this post is uncharacteristically chipper but really, how am I supposed to keep a straight face when Kate pretended to forget my name during her acceptance speech at the Golden Globes? No amount of bumbling British charm is going to lift you out of this cesspool, lady.
We're all trying to make sense of this. Now, Pax just read Flowers for Algernon and he suggested that perhaps Kate is on a journey like Algernon’s—so her genius would have peaked around Little Children (where sex and pain go together, as well they should) and she’s now on her descent into loony-land, which is why she forgot my name. It's a dramatic theory but I don't know—you show me a lucid human can’t pull my name off the top of her head, I’ll show you a two-dollar bill made out of human skin. By the way, does anyone have one of those?