is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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From Strauss to the Other Dimension.
Tonight Strauss and I drank a whole mess of scotch at a tasting put on by Johnnie Walker. It was free. We made jokes.
That�s all.
He has known me through a lot of hairstyles. His hairstyle has remained largely the same.
Nights out with Strauss always feel epic, even when they only last a couple of hours. I mean that in the best possible way. He makes me LAUGH.
This next piece of information has nothing to do with Strauss.
So, I was given permission to reprint the fart story in its entirety. The way in which I was given permission made me laugh, as one friend used another friend's name in the comments section. Said other friend, at first friend's prompting, once offered to me a pearl of great wisdom which I call The Parable of the Hot Dog Bun.
Anyway, I went back and read the fart story, and it still made me laugh really, really hard, the kind of laughing that looks stupid when you're doing it sitting alone on your couch. Except that no one's looking.
However, I decided the story was too graphic for some readers! So you must content yourselves instead with the wholesomely funny Parable of the Hot Dog Bun.
If you need a bigger thrill, perhaps I can invite you over to my apartment, where you can pull the string to another dimension and see what happens. Within the last week both Gus and Linda have pulled the string without having anything untoward happen (other than having the sound of the other dimension begin to emerge just before the string-puller realizes the mistake s/he has just made and is saddled with the awesome weight of a great responsibility, and thus the string gets pulled again to shut the wormhole). Neither of them let the portal stay open long enough to take on the risks posed by strange new worlds.
You think I'm joking. But I'm not. There is something very mysterious about the string. How it just hangs there, coming from somewhere way up in the ceiling, just dangling through one of the holes in a grate up there.
So it gets pulled every now and then. People sometimes think it's a light switch. Or they just can't handle the idea of not pulling a string that hangs mysteriously from a grate in a ceiling. Sometimes the whole contraption's rinky-dink MacGuyverishness makes me laugh a bit. But then at times even I make the mistake of pulling the string, usually late at night when I forget that the light has a switch, not a string, and then the evil noise that follows reminds me right away that the other dimension one can open up in my bathroom is no laughing matter.
The other dimension starts to boil over on windy nights like tonight. No one has to pull the string, and still whatever it is that goes on up there starts doing its thing. Some creature is hard at work writing a score for an avant-garde horror story set in a galaxy too far away even for Hubble to render. And I am given a front row seat, whether I want it or not.
11:14 p.m. - March 06, 2007
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