My perfect life

So I have a few minutes still before I must leave to pick up coco_palmolive at the airport (:D:D:D:D:D!), and Titus the Greyhound is lying at the foot of my desk and my kitchen is completely unpacked and my house looks so wonderful I can hardly believe it's mine, though I'm finally starting to believe it really must be, and the feeling that it is just a temporary sort of home and will soon be taken away from me is finally receding. And coco and I will buy some cheap and well-designed object from IKEA in your name, and we will toast you this weekend and wish you were here.

All these things are true and I am most excited about them; but to be honest, that's not the reason I am updating now. I am updating now because of this inexplicable craving I had at the grocery today for chicken corndogs. I bought them and had them for lunch, and as I ate, I thought about the wooden sticks, stamped with the company logo, and also about those popsicle sticks which are stamped with jokes that reveal themselves as you eat, and I had this idea that the chicken corndog sticks should have chicken jokes on them. The company logo is so boring! And there are so many completely fabulous chicken jokes in the world! I myself have an entire book of them. (Also of elephant jokes, but as far as I know elephant meat is not in vogue, and certainly not available on sticks.) Surely there is a market for the chicken-joke-on-a-stick!

It should, but will not, go without saying that for some reason, I felt it imperative that I share this with you. And now you know the worst about me there is to know:

(1) I eat chicken corn dogs, on occasion. And enjoy them.

(2) I cannot experience a revelation without sharing it with my flist.

(3) Said revelations are almost always completely trivial and useless.

(4) I like--no, I love--chicken jokes.

I only hope you continue to respect me after learning these dreadful secrets. Assuming, of course, that you respected me in the first place.