Epiphanies
1) Target is the best place to buy boxers. I got a pair of Calvin Kleins from the mall, and it was like wrapping my gonads in goddamn tin foil. That, and it cost me $11. Cal, I know you need to fund your underwear model starvation camps somehow, but Mr. Hanes is my new pimp now. Look who they got their Hanes on now! That's right, it's a totally unmarketable Asian guy.
2) Ladies go nuts over the weirdest things. My friend Purnima is all googly-eyed over a bag that, for all intents and purposes, looks like a muppet's vagina. I'm not even joking. Now, by no means have my off-the-wall consumer purchases all made sense (I own a DVD of Japanese animation that is basically one solid hour of boob jokes), but at least mine have been relatively cheap (1 hour boob puns: $19.99. Shoving a DVD into the back of your video shelf in shame: Priceless).
In truth, though, I understand the feeling of wanting something that might not make much sense to other people. Buy it, baby! It's only money, after all. But you should get Jish to hang it from his rear view mirror, alongside this lovely item... a purse made out of a bull's scrotum. You need it, for, uh.. feng shui. Ancient Chinese wisdom has been rendered; you have to do it now, or else your offspring will be haunted by visions of egg rolls for a thousand generations. Boo ya!
3) I am not normal. It's about 2 hours past my intended bedtime, and I'm writing a weblog post. This can partly be explained by the fact that the fucking washing machine at the laundromat didn't wash my clothes properly, so I had to feed it another $1.25 so I could wait another hour for it to finish. Mostly, though, I was up making 10 quarts of soup. Now why, you might ask, am I, a gainfully employed individual, awake at 1 o'clock in the morning making soup? All right... I'm not going to lie to you.