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If there's a girl snake in your sweater, does that make you a lesbian? - I'll bet you have intestinal parasites. [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Aurora Linnea

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If there's a girl snake in your sweater, does that make you a lesbian? [Nov. 12th, 2006|03:13 am]
Aurora Linnea
[mood |sickgoddddamn it.]
[music |Ex-Models]

I spent this whirlwind Veteran's Day weekend in darling old New Hampshire, land of the free. The funtimes sector of this sorry state has definitely been improved thanks to a slew of new developments that have...er...developed since I last visited...

1. My little brother, David Alden Cobb, is now the proud owner of a Creamsicle Corn Snake. Being an ultimately clever & creative young man, David has named his new steed 'Cornelius.' It is yet to be decided whether Cornelius is in fact a man or a lady snake, but I know one thing: I'm not taking any chances. I always address Cornelius by Cornelius's full name so as to avoid offending Cornelius. I'm walking on eggshells here! I'm not sure if I should take it as some sort of hint that Cornelius was trying, quite literally, to get into my pants earlier this morning; I think that may just be a unisex habit of ill-mannered snakes. In any case, I have fallen madly in love with that lithe reptile and carried it around for approximately 8 hours today.

2. My older brother, Christopher, passed his lawyer exams. Woo! What the world needs right now is more lawyers, and I am so pleased that my brother can fill the void. My family had a celebration for Lawyerface at some highly unsophisticated restaurant called 'BuggaBoo Creek.' I thought we were going somewhere nice so I dressed up in my blazery best, only to find myself surrounded by taxidermied wildlife and decorative twigs. There was a talking moose on the wall; I believe he called himself Morty. The waitress, who was dressed in cowboy boots and a name tag pin bearing the words 'Ellie May' (I KID YOU NOT), dropped a creamer on my head. I was somewhat upset, but mostly I was distracted by Morty the Talking Moose. My parents ordered this thing called a "Bunyan Onion," which is apparently like a giant onion ring but totally unpleasant. This abomination of the food world prompted me to make a bunch of jokes about both Paul Bunyan, the mythical lumberjack, and the other bunion, a sort of weird growth you can get on your heel if your shoes are too small.

3. My darling father has transformed our basement from a slightly moist, unpopular hang-out spot for angsty teens into a putrid house of slaughter. Earlier in the year, we had 20 turkeys. Now we have four. While I had hoped that they were simply disappearing or being kidnapped by weasels, it turns out that my dad has actually been brutally murdering them in our basement. I went down to the basement this morning to get a popsicle from the freezer, only to find that the freezer no longer housed popsicles but layers and layers of turkey corpses. There's turkey blood and feathers and bone fragments everywhere. It's very Texas Chainsaw Massacre, sans cannibalism.

4. Ice Cream. I've been eating a ton of it to dull the pain of my existence. I'm probably going to be obese come summer.
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