Saturday, May 14, 2005

Trying To Sleep

I'm gonna kill her.

Monday, April 11, 2005


The Sealy, Posterpedic's foam density index makes it a potential, airtight seal around the face.

I may need to put out a fire sometime.


Sometimes, I mean it, sometimes, I'd swear up and down that Jodi's communicating a living will of sorts to me through her intermittent, apnea outbursts.

Though I cannot interpret clear;y it now, my love for her and my attention to marital sanctity will show me the right way to go.

Saturday, April 09, 2005

David Berkowitz

Just got a letter from "Son of Sam," surmising he would have been acquitted if he would have said that barking dog had a living will.


Jodi Centonze: What A Woman

Terri had--HAD expressed to me, her desire to be relegated to writhing beef-jerky, should she ever have a "sudden and precipitous drop" in her Potassium levels.

Why is that so hard to believe?

She also said "Mike, should I ever be in a state that I am fully conscious, yet unable to speak, I want you to have an adulterous affair. Yes, whatever you do, please kill me, because I couldn't stand the mortal, emotional blow of divorce."

I'm still pinching myself, hoping that the Schindler's cannot resurrect an urn through the courts.

I am thnkful for Jodi. She's been getting on my nerves lately, for some, unexplainable reason.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Fishing With Greer

Just got back from our trout fishing trip on Friday. The judge was in rare form, attatching the lead weight to his rig with surgical tubing . . . had no idea he had such sardonic wit lurking beneath that calm, baptist, judicial exterior.

I was even a bit put off by the dead baby, leprosy and Jeffery Dahmer jokes, but who I am to quibble with my legal Santa?

Monday, April 04, 2005

A Knock At The Door

The Federal Express guy just arrived with the insulin. I've gotta figure out how to refrigerate this stuff for now.

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Under the radar, finally

Thank goodness that the Pope's death and Chuck and Camille's nuptials are on the front page. It's been quite a chore being more hated than Ward Churchill, but worth every sweet minute of the relief I feel. Dead women tell no . . .um, jokes.

George called me this morning and said he was working on something called the Peter Jenning Project." I'm not exactly sure what he meant, as he said that there was a certain "clandestine property" to the project. He did say that "Let's just say Peter better hope his afflictions don't metasticize. That's all I'm saying."

I've noticed that Jodi sleeps very, very deeply.