I had my prom at a place called Shenanigans. It was laaaaaaaaame...and almost 10 years ago. Holy shite. So, today's question comes to us from Goranas. Goranas (also known as Gorilla Bananas, but I hate bananas so I never call him that), supposedly lives in the Congo, but based on his quaint spellings of things...I'm going to venture a guess that his actual location is somewhere in Great Britain. Why he feels the need to lie to us all, I don't know. Maybe he's a secret agent. Maybe he's just shy. Either way...his blog est tres amusant, though there always seems to be an overabundance of breasts upon it. Yes, men, there CAN be an overabundance of breasts in one locale. It IS possible.
So Goranas asked me the following:
Dear Kara,
Would you rather sit on an ostrich egg or Patrick Stewart's bald head? Please give your reasons.
Love
G. Bananas
First off, Goranas, though I heart you as well...we need to get a little something straight. This is an advice column. Through it, I'm supposed to advise you about shit...not answer questions about my personal preferences. See...you're trying to make it all about me; when I'M trying to make it about you. But this is you not letting me. It's a vicious circle. Can two people make a circle? Maybe it's more like a game of cricket. Stupidest game ever.
Anyway...to answer your question...the only one left in my inbox to answer (mutha effin' hint hint)...is that depends. My reasons for this answer are as follows.
1. If it's cold outside, Paddy's head might keep me warmer than an ostrich's egg. And would definitely provide better conversation.
2. But if I'm feeling anti-social...the egg would allow me to sulk in silence. Unless it hatched and I had to figure out how to feed it.
3. Once the ostrich hatched...I could have it for a pet. Patrick Stewart would be far too much upkeep as a pet. And I'd prolly have to keep him inside, which would become a space issue. Kansas needs the second bedroom to house all his LPs.
4. Really, I prefer to sit on the floor. My legs are short and everything else forces me to feel my height. But the floor doesn't. On the floor, we are all equals.
5. I don't have time for this. I'm going to go play in a corn maze.
So that's it, friends. That is the last question in my inbox to answer. Unless anyone has anything they need advice on, Condi will whither and shrivel up next week. More so than usual. Jivecooky at yahoo dot com. Do it.
