June 16, 2004

A Gumpy Little Sod

Sorry about my lack of material lately, but I've been suffering from two afflictions: one, a severe case of home-for-the-summer-with-nothing-to-do-except-melt-my-brain-with-TV blues (which I think was a B.B. King song), and two, a severe case of dial-up internet access (which I'm sure was a B.B. King song).

Today: all about my little brother's French exchange partner, who is currently staying in my room (don't worry, I'm staying somewhere else . . .)

I'm sure that child protection laws prohibit me from posting little Philippe's picture online, so you'll have to take my word for it that he is the spitting image of the young Forrest Gump. He's got everything: vaguely crossed eyes, sticking-out ears, short dark hair, and, in the picture he submitted with his application, a button-down cotton shirt with enormous buttons and a wide collar, that's been (this is the best part) buttoned all the way up to the top.

He even, I have just discovered, has a goofy laugh. I'm tempted to introduce him to my ex-girlfriend Jenny and see if a lifelong, peas-and-carrots love blossoms between them.

Sigh . . . Somebody please employ me.

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