Tuesday, January 12, 2010
My new year's kiss was with a dog--well, okay--a statue of a dog. And, you know, it was pretty nice. After a night full of dancing to Disco Nights: Divas of Dance and eating junk food with one of my best girlfriends, kissing an inanimate object just felt so right... until the next morning.
I woke up in a toilet. Not next to the toilet, not hugging the toilet, not even on the toilet. In a toilet. After removing myself from that potentially embarrassing situation, I fumbled around for my glasses. Suddenly, I noticed that I was in my underwear. My clothes had been savagely thrown around the bathroom and covered in slime. As I pulled my shirt out from under the sink, I heard a terrifying sound. It was as if a malfunctioning Furby had been sent through a wood chipper. The horrid screech filled the tiny room. Ears throbbing, I spun toward the source of the ruckus: a fully grown mutant slug dog named Ralphie with five ears and only one left toe.
What had looked like an innocent statue the night before was actually seven feet of slimy smelly dog breath. The danger of disco, my friend, is that the world begins to change after about an hour of it. Things that were once horrifyingly bizarre or irritating--Parisian night suits, John Travolta's dancing, pointy collars, and yes, the mutant slug dog--become an acceptable part of everyday life. Blinded by Shame (Evelyn "Champagne" King), I stumbled into Ralphie twelve seconds before the new year. The rest is 2010.
Am I upset about this unfortunate event? Aside from the fact that I'm pretty sure I flushed my favorite socks down the toilet, no. I feel prepared for any strangeness that has yet to happen this year; moreover, I am looking forward to what might happen with Ralphie. I get the impression that he wants nothing to do with me and my disco music, but hey--a girl can dream. ;)