Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

February 7th, 2002

So i’ve spent the whole day being invisible. I have this magic hat that allows me to become submicroscopic. It looks like an upturned, fuzzy, fuschia flower pot, and it blocks my peripheral vision. I beleive that if i can’t see something, then it doesn’t exist - but i only beleive this when i’m wearing my hat. When i’m not wearing my hat, i’m very concerned with things I can’t see. For example, I have been convinced for several months now that there are ghosts in my bathroom. Why the ghosts haunt the crapper, I have no idea.

In any event, I’ve been walking around with the fuschia flower pot on my head all day. And when i wear ‘the pot my vision is obscured so much that I can only see sneakers and pants. I imagine, when i have this hat on, that as I’m trudging across the drillfield, I can spy on anyone - I can’t see anyone, so they must not be able to see me.

The list of future careers now reads: spy, feng shui master, mother to challenged child, medical experiment participant, naval officer, stripper, lawyer, and taco bell employee.

This invisibility thing is all very well, considering I’m in the usual Thursday slump. I think I have a chemical imbalance which makes me predisposed to having Blue Thursdays. Last Thursday I got home from class and crawled under my quilt. I didn’t sleep. I just sort of whimpered, until my friend was kind enough to bring me a magazine with Booby Spears on the cover. She’s such a whore, but oh man, she’s got charisma like a mo-fo.

Anyhow, since it’s time for my weekly day of depression, I think i’m going to find some chocolate icecream and retire to the comforts of Must See TV. Ciao - for now.

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