A Conversation Between Myself And Two Small Children At A Fourth Of July BBQ

Small Child # 1: "What are you drinking?"

Me: "Campari and Orange Juice."

Small Child # 1: "Is Campari alcohol?"

Me: "It is; it's a kind of Italian bitters."

Small Child # 1: "Is the orange juice because it tastes bad without it?"

Me: "I wouldn't say bad, but it's kind of bitter and the orange juice is kinda sweet, and it's, like a lot of things, kind of an acquired taste, so."

Small Child # 2: "My dad eats bad dreams!"

Me: "Your dad eats bad dreams? what is he, some kind of psychic vampire? that's terrifying."

Small Child # 2: "He eats bad dreams and then he eats alcohol!"

Small Child # 1: "You can't eat alcohol, not unless you freeze it or something."

Me: "Or make it into jello, I guess."

Small Child # 1: "And anyway, nobody drinks just alcohol."

Me: "Sure they do. I do."

Small Child # 1: "But I heard alcohol is poison."

Me: "Well, yeah, it is. That's sorta how it works, actually."

Small Child # 1 (with incredulous look on his face): "So it's a poison? That makes you feel happy."

Me: " . . . That's . . . well, actually that's exactly what it is, yes."

Small Child # 2: "My dad eats bad dreams and alcohol and then he turns it into jello and puts it in his hair and then he eats his hair!"

Me: "Your dad may have an eating disorder called 'Pica'"

Small Child # 2: "And he's SO STINKY!!"

Me: "It's hardly surprising, considering his diet."

You Wouldn't Think A Small Child Would Do Such A Good Alejandra Dehaza Impression, But . . .

The 9th Symphony Of Synthpop

I'm not sure this video really does anything for me. I mean, Akira; whatever. Mostly I just listen to this song so much that I felt increasingly guilty for not commemorating that fact on this blog.

The Love Letters Of Little Girls