Fog: The Silent Killer.
Unless there's a fog horn around.
Have you ever thought about fog? I mean really thought about it. Not just sitting around thinking "I wonder where fog comes from?" No, I'm talking about hardcore, Beverly Cleary style thinking about fog.
About fog's hopes, dreams, the way fog combs its hair when you're trying to sleep, or the way it tries to tickle you, and you're like "come on, fog cut it out" but you're laughing, so fog keeps going when really you're only laughing because you're being tickled- then you just get super angry and take a swing. Then it's on. I mean, like turning your car on when it's really foggy and then turning on your fog lamps. Fogs hate fog lamps. In the same way lamps hate people from Missouri.
We're cool now though. I mean, it's just fog, right? It's not like I was planning on having lunch with fog next week or going to the Hamptons or tenderizing some meat for some brisket with that meat tenderizer you just bought when fog just "happened" to mention earlier today that fog already knew you can just use cumin seeds to do it, when really, I think this whole brisket thing was just an excuse to go into williams-sonoma.
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