Monday, May 14, 2007

Another Fun Conversation

True Story:

Scene: The Object of My Affection and I are driving around DC, discussing decorating plans for our upcoming domestic effort.

Goo: We should paint a huge mural of a wave in the living room. Oh, and lots of fake guitars, for when an air guitar just won't cut it. A taxidermied unicorn would look absolutely lovely in the foyer, you know. And robots for the kitchen, natch. Maybe stencils of the dinosaurs surfing over the giant wave in the living room? We should definitely call the spare room the study and then decorate it like the Clue board game. We already have the rope and the candlestick; we just need need a lead pipe, a wrench...

Object [interrupting]: Whoa, slow down there a minute. While I can definitely see the taxidermied unicorn, we need to sit down and look at this rationally. The most important aspect of any decorating or house decision is that it be sensible and practi--

The Object pauses as the Topsy Turvy bus drives the other way past us.

Object: What the fuck was that?

Billy Burroughs winks at me from heaven.

4 Comments:

Blogger 3pennyjane said...

I do know a pretty good artist who has recently started paying the rent by painting murals in people's homes. She got really quiet and grim when she talked about getting stuck with a picture of an Indian maiden pouring out a landscape from an earthen jar, with members of the family appearing as part of the tribe. A commission that involved hot-rodding unicorns and ninjas surfing up the face of El Capitan would probably perk her up a bit, should you decide to go that route.

12:10 PM  
Blogger Desidirius said...

Do you ever worry that your life will become so overabundant with fun that it will implode under its own weight, becoming a superdense fun-speck, the gravity of which no other fun can escape?

Or that your fun will evolve past the point of the Fun Singularity, rendering you vestigal and obsolete in the making of your own fun and causing the future evolution of your fun to become unknowably beyond your comprehension?

These are the things that keep me awake at night. Well, tonight, anyway. If I don't dream I'm lost in Adams-Morgan again.

Was fun meeting you jolly kids at the shindig Saturday; drop me a line sometime, would love to hang out. Aside from the work e-mail on the card I gave you, you also can get me at first_name . middle_name . last_name @gmail.com.

PS -- A former friend of mine used performance-degrading substances in Bill Burroughs' old bedroom in Lawrence, KS.

PPS -- Tell The Object he must see this documentary before it gets shittily fictionalized by Will Ferrell. -- CDH

12:53 AM  
Blogger rock_ninja said...

3Pennyjane- Can we pay her in our delicious homemade guacamole, tequilas, and Tecate?

Desidirius- That is precisely why I am an incorrigible insomniac.

8:47 AM  
Blogger 3pennyjane said...

I would say not unless you're willing to give her strange Slavic hangover foods the next morning. (My blood is impure, so I use pho [regular number 14, thank you garcon], but I'm sure there's something from the motherland that makes up for an intemperate consumption of sneakily strong margaritas.)

8:55 AM  

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