Friday, February 23, 2007

Pillows and The Winner

There are ten pillows on my bed right now. This is more pillows than any bed or person rightly needs, but the pillows here are for decorative affect (I'm using "affect" instead of "effect" on purpose, so stop mentally correcting me -- you're wrong), not utility. So I'm not actually allowed to get my head anywhere near these pillows.

Stop me if I'm wrong (and I'm not, so if you stop me, it's clearly because you're contrary, obnoxious, and were raised by nannies), but isn't it WRONG, and by wrong, I mean, VERY VERY WRONG, to own so many pillows that serve no purpose but prettiness? There are people who don't have pillows. There are people who have to sleep on bricks at night, people who have to rest their heads against the crumbling gravel edges of city potholes, even people who have to sleep on worm-infested dirt, risking the very real possibility of worms wiggling their way up into their ears, down the ear canal, and directly into their brains, where they will try to burrow their way through the occipital lobe. People NEED pillows, and this wanton waste of pillows makes me sick.

It's kind of like watching someone throw away chocolate. I can't not go pull it out of the trash. Sometimes, when I see all those off-limits pillows, I get real sleepy, and before I know it, I'm rolling around in pillows, getting my skin oil all over their pristine 100 percent cotton shams. I have no shame because shams are a sham. That's right. I'm saying it right now. Pillows were meant for more than eye candy; they were meant for loving.

But this isn't my house, and my aunt and uncle, who own it, and my g-rents, who are occupying it, have different standards, and since this ain't my abode, I must honor their crazy, anti-utilitarian rules and keep a distance from the pretty, fluffy, downy, soft, big, colorful pillows.

Absolutely ridiculous.

Now, I'd also like to plug Fox's The Winner. I've been a major fan of Rob Corddry's for years but even I knew that the likelihood of his talents translating into sitcom gold were slim, but you know what, I've watched three episodes of The Winner and just about fell off the bed (don't worry, I wasn't anywhere near the impeccably arranged pillow art by the headboard). It's a weird 40 Year-Old Virgin-esque premise, but for now, it's funny. Four episodes are currently streaming at and I believe the pilot, which is not available, airs March 4th at 8:30. Go. Give your glutes a nice work out.

Quote of the day:
My sister: Grandma's taking a shower.
My grandfather: Why?
My sister: She feels dirty?

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In summing up, I wish I had some kind of affirmative message to leave you with. I don't. Would you take two negative messages?
-- Woody Allen