I told my collection of vacuum formed dolls that I wish I owned a disco bag with gorilla fur and a pocket mirror. Jingle boy suggested I just go out and buy one, but then Mr. Goiter suggested I ask Suze Orman if I could afford it. I am hesitant because there are so many things Suze has already denied me. Here is a list just to re-cap.:
Astronaut Pants.
Lunch on Tuesday.
A vowel. I'd like to buy a vowel.
A fleet of trained killer mosquitoes.
375 feet of string cheese.
Indian property.
An anonymous futon.
103 gently used parables.
The Little Explorer Adventure Belt Set.
A portrait of Spock tattooed on my back with the inscription: They like you very much, but they are not the hell your whales.
My entire apartment Vacuum-Sealed. (I'm concerned that my giant inchworm with a saddle on it is just sitting there collecting dust.)
Nervous laughter.
A habitual cough.
The Little House on the Prairie DVD collection.
A diving board surrounded by miniature tubs of margarine to cushion my fall.
Appeased parents.
An intensified obbligato.
His and Her matching omelettes.
An unpredictable suitcase.
Anything behind the door where Carol Merrill is standing.
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