My parrot, Punchy, spends most of her time preening her feathers, zipping them so that there isn't a single one out of place, always looking as though at any moment National Geographic could walk in with a fake palm tree and stick her on its cover. Similarly, my sister spends most of her time separating strands of her hair and examining them with an almost religious fervency for any remote sign of dilapidation. Quite frequently she'll spot something about a certain strand of hair that is completely unsatisfactory and, with a parrot-like squawk, eagerly pluck it out.
While my sister and my bird spent the evening grooming themselves, I heard Eric Schlosser, author of Fast Food Nation, speak at UT tonight. I was hoping he would talk about Reefer Madness a bit, but here's what he did say:
"Peace belongs to the people."
"The future is now."
"A snake rode a motorcycle seven miles!"
My ballroom dance instructor possesses a ruthless enthusiasm that I find exhausting. He leaps around the dance floor like he is secretly a leprechaun with springs in his pointy-toed dance shoes. I can't help but let out a scream of laughter when he says things like "Apres vous! Sehr gut! Muchos gracias! The beautiful woman is a ferrari, and you musn't drive her into a tree, especially if you drive as fast as I do on Mopac!"
What looks like a magnified bacteria below is actually a picture of my sister's dog, Mephistopheles. Actually his name is Quigley and we all love him very much. I have an environmental science paper that I really must write now.
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