I woke up this morning in a tent pitched on Kenny G's lawn.  This might sound strange to you but it seems perfectly logical to me, given that it's where I went to sleep last night.  I'm not stalking him; I am waiting patiently for him to come home.  I am eager to show him the new instrument I created, mostly out of a crackpipe and spare parts of a banjo that I stole from some Irish farmer.  He probably won't miss it anyway.  On it, the new instrument that is, I can only play one song, the theme to Kenny G's life, which I wrote myself.  I call it "K.G's Theme" because I like to think that Kenny and myself are friends.  If I could, I would hang around with him all day and fetch things for him as needed because, really, that's what friends do.  I wouldn't go so far as to say that I would shower or bathe with him but if that's what Kenny wanted, I would at least consider it.  Because we're friends.

I once had a plan that involved moving the Indians further west.  The only real problem that I could see would be relocating all the casinos.  Those aren't easy to move you know.  Not to mention all the maps and street signs.  You'd have to give everyone new directions.  And directions aren't cheap.  You can't just around handing out directions to anyone who asks.  That's just not good business sense.  You know what's good business?  Ice.  Moving ice around in trucks.  Apparently there is a market for that.  I was baking a cake once and I ran out of ice.  I had to go next door and ask my neighbor if she had a cup of ice I could borrow.  I found that very degrading.

I'm a night watchman by day and a day trader by night.  Pretty specialized fields.  I had to go through a lot of schooling.  Not that I passed any of it but it beats bagging groceries.  But I use the self-checkout line because I don't support communists.  Working at a retirement home is amusing.  At least the thought of it is.  After 65 years, you stop working and simply move in.  Work is now your home.  I bought a new set of fingerprints the other day because I didn't think my current ones looked very good.  And they clashed with most of my outfits.

I want to be an upstanding member in a community of people with no legs.  I wouldn't live there though but I'd be within walking distance.  I once knew a paraplegic.  He was a real pushover.  What do you do when you outgrow your bathroom?  You can't really add on to it.  That's just unheard of.  I used to be in telephone sales but we never sold any telephones.  Rotten business if you ask me.  I recently bought a matress made of rubber.  Now, whenever it gets a hole in it I can just patch it up instead of throwing it away.  Except I need to remember to rotate it every so often.  At parties, I like to tell people that I am a bill collector.  Most find it odd but I say it's better than a stamp collection.  They tend to agree, often without me resorting to physical violence.  Sometimes you just have to get your hands dirty.

I lost the key to my heart the other day and had to go to the locksmith to get a new one made.  I got a second one done which I keep under the doormat.  I think people long stopped being creative with their doormats.  That was hip in the 80's.  I bought a transparent one once but my house kept getting broken into.  Never could figure out why but I'm no detective.

I've outsourced my personal life.  Someone in India is probably having a good time right now.  At least they better be.  That's what I pay them for.  I should probably give them a call and see how I'm doing.  My workplace was raided last week by members of law enforcement.  There was a seizure.  I guess one of the agents was epileptic.  He's better now though.  I once misdialed AAA and reached AA instead.  I don't think I caught his name.  I told them that I had been drinking too much and I locked myself out of my car.  They didn't help much.  Speaking of, I hear a car approaching.  It could be Kenny coming home.