I had to fashion my own privacy wall. It’ll do for now, but I’m thinking I’ll have to bring in some duct tape, peanut butter and a sheet of drywall in order to MacGyver something proper-like; something that would make Walter Ulbricht proud.
It’s really boring over here. Collin’s hobby is “looking at cars,” and that’s all he does here. I was hoping he’d be into something less vanilla, like perhaps handling snapping turtles or wearing studded leather masks while eating buttered popcorn jelly beans.
I thought for sure I’d move over here and be awash in talk of strippers and the Cuban mafia and Lithuanian knife-fighting.
Not so much. I get to hear about custom paint jobs. And horsepower and torque, which would be awesome if it had anything to do with sex.
I might turn this site into an 8-hour Collin/Bob watch, because they’re just that interesting. I’ll be back later, perhaps to report on Bob’s refilled coffee mug.
6 Responses to “iron curtain of privacy”
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Wow. What a masculine area you’ve moved to!
And I still get to hear Eleanore bitching about life! She didn’t say anything to me last night. Nothing.
beep…beep… beep.
BIG HEAD ALERT.
no, not the picture of chooch- your pal collin.
That’s how people know they’re “in” — when I write about them openly. You know you would probably freak if I ever stopped talking shit on you!
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/10/us/10divorce.html?_r=1&oref=slogin
Um, WTF.
OMG! And LJ no less!
Can you imagine how far Henry could run with that?