October 30, 2003
My therapist says I should consider why I exhibit such hostility toward young female movie starlets. I think he’s just jealous. He must be because he doesn’t prescribe me nearly enough medication.
My girlfriend bought me a new pair of pants. She said I needed them. I needed six of them she said, but she bought me just one. I asked my therapist what he thought of my girlfriend’s actions. He said she had excellent taste, in pants. I told him it’s because her therapist gives her more medications than I get. He said he would think about it.
My girlfriend thinks it would be better for our relationship if she cheated on me. I asked my therapist what he would do about that. He said he would think about it.
My girlfriend says I should grow a beard, and move to Alaska. I said what if I just didn’t shave for two days and slept in the bathroom. She said that would be fine.
My dad says all my movie reviews are bad. “Mean?” I said. “No bad,” he said. My dad’s never been to a therapist.
My mom wants to know what she did wrong. So does my therapist. I told her I’d give him her number.
My editor wants to know why I keep making up words in my reviews. He says I’m making his life miserable. I said he’s not the only one.
I got a call the other day from Francis Ford Coppola’s lawyer. Apparently, Alaska’s not so bad if I go right now.
I told my girlfriend where she could reach me in Alaska. “Oh honey, you shouldn’t have.”
Yours Truthfully,
Cold Bacon (Juneau)
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