Tomorrow, tomorrow, Just a tad obsessed. I was serious, by the way, when I wrote that I was going to wait out front so that the mail carrier can't possibly mess up the delivery. I'm taking a folding chair, a cooler of shorties (soda, of course) and a stack of National Geographic magazines that I haven't read. All I need now is a big foam finger and a pennant. NOTE: There's a commercial currently playing in which a little girl looks wistfully at a can of Chef Boyardee supper slop on the shelf of a grocery store. "No, honey," says her mother, "You've had Chef every night this week." The little girl sighs, "But I love Chef." They leave the grocery store, but the can hops off the shelf and rolls after them. It rolls out the door, down the highway and through their neighbourhood. At home the can rolls in through the cat-flap just as mom prepares to make supper. Chef has come through for the little girl. Awe...the little girl loves Chef and Chef loves the little girl. It's enough to make you puke. |
