Friday, September 16, 2011
Sax: Got this ipod dock that’s an alarm clock. Six AM, the Hamster Dance song blares from the speakers, waking me up happy. I mean, I’m not happy to be up at six in the morning, but who can be a shithead when the Hamster Dance song is playing? Weeehoo!
Still, I’d rather get laid in the morning. You know, wake up with a guy who doesn’t have to run out the door for a class or a job, or on the other hand, doesn’t pull my grandmother’s quilt up over his eyes and groan, roll over. Ignore the Hamster Dance. Say “Rumph!” in protest if I try to inspire him.
You know, someone like me. I want someone like me. I’ll even take someone who likes me, me, Saxon, Hamster Dancer, smart, sexy, hair so short there’s no bed head. Me! Scrabble fiend, lover of mani-pedi’s, wearer of tees with words: That was Zen, this is Tao.
Mother of –
Naah, I don’t want to talk about that.