soapboxdiner

Oh to be an unshaved German woman named Margret

If I were a small unshaved German lady living in England, I think I'd marry and or go into head-achingly bizarre verbal rounds to the point of tears with this guy. Or better yet, if I were to reincarnate as anything in this world, I'd probably just go ahead and become this guy.

I've developed such a crush on him that I've found myself actually searching him out, pining for more of him. So happy was I when I found his weekly column. And my affinity for him only grows. Mwah! I love him. And can you imagine my joy over his soon to be released book? Rapture!

So don't you even think about taking him from me. I'll fight ya. Oh yeah, I'll cut you good. Or worse yet, I'll subject you to the pain and horror that is his sister columnist's feature (so wittily titled), How to Wear Clothes.

I guess there can only be one great column to any paper. But secretly, yes; I am thankful for her generously shared insights into this nearly unnavigatable daily test of talent. I mean, phew. I don't know if I'd be able to manage this tricky feat on my own.

8:56 pm - 09.22.02
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