But today I did. And I agree with that Indian.
I've never heard of the Washington Wetbacks or the Atlanta Heebs or the Cleveland Jigaboos. Cause it's wrong. Funny, but wrong.
As a follow up to my entry about the gangland warfare going on in our aquarium, it turns out that it wasn't gang related at all. The Crips and the Bloods actually get along pretty well with each other. What didn't get along with them was our African Leaf Fish, Lamont.
He liked the way they tasted, apparently, and before all was said and done, four Bloods and one Crip had lost their life to his thirst for blood. Apparently, and I only learned this yesterday because the woman who sold it to me neglected to inform me, they eat anything that can fit in their mouth, live fish being their favorite.
So we flushed his speckled ass down the toilet along with the headless corpse of his last victim.
Cristi thinks he's gonna grow super big and terrorize Chicago like in that movie Alligator, but I keep telling her "Baby, we don't live in Chicago," and she gets all quiet and whispers in my ear "I came here to kick ass and chew bubblegum...and I'm all out of bubblegum" and I'm all "That's a different movie. That comes from They Live starring Rowdy Roddy Piper," and then she just screams.
We had dinner tonight with Dotti and Jeremy and their cute ass baby, Magnolia, who looks a little like a smiling Thom Yorke except for that whole lazy eye thing. And she's not so angsty. Afterwards we gave them a salad bowl and talked about how corn always makes an encore appearance in the toilet. Like even if you chew it well, it always shows up reconstituted in its original kernel form, although it has a new cob, so to speak.
I'm going to bed.