The Rabbit Of Easter. He Bring Of

I Don't Like Being Left To My Own Thoughts.

Neighbors Would Pass, And When They Honked I'd Remember That I Was In My Speedo. Then I'd Wrap My Towel Like A Skirt Around My Waist And Remind My Sisters That This Was Not Girlish But Egyptian, Thank You Very Much.

If You Aren't Cute, You May As Well Be Clever.

Watching Him Was Like Opening The Door To A Siniging Telegram; You Know It's Supposed To Be Entertaining, But You Can't Get Beyond The Sad Fact That This Person Actually Thinks He Bringing Some Joy Into Your Life. Somewhere He Had A Mother Who Sifted Through A Shoe Box Of Mimeographed Playbills, Pouring Herself Another Drink And Wondering When Her Son Would Come To His Senses And Swallow Some Drain Cleaner.

And One Of The Things I Noticed Pretty Early On In Art School Was That My Classmates Had No Notion Of An Audience. Right? I Mean, Growing Up With The Mother That I Did, I Learned That When You Walk Into The Dry Cleaners, There's An Audience Waiting For You. You Know, Maybe It's Just The Person Behind The Counter.