So Craig Ferguson, the host of The Late Late Show, moonlights as a motivational speaker. You wouldn't think it by looking at him but he is quite a hippie. His main message is that everyone should sleep naked in gigantic beds with everyone else because we don't fight when we're naked or asleep. Genius.
Anyway, somebody dragged me to his seminar up in the mountains. I'm not a group participation type and I actually hate motivational speaking so when everyone else was curling up in the giant bed and Mr. TalkShow was ringleadering like a jackass, I found myself a little place in the hallway on the oily green carpet underneath the stairs. Everyone had to step over me and their shoe crumbs kept landing on my cheek so it wasn't the most comfortable sleep I ever had, plus some people got a little jealous that I had my own place so a few people joined me and somebody's cold foot kept wedging itself into my crack.
At breakfast Craig was quite the star, all the frumpy girls were basking in his glow and trying to get his attention. He played it off like the perfect polygamist, one woman was doing her best sad and neglected face and he walked right up and put his lips one millimeter from hers in some kind of torture type exercise which I found quite disturbing between two people who couldn't be less sexually desirable as far as I was concerned. Her lip quivered like it was the most tempting thing in the world. All I could think was ew.
In the other room a high school crush girl I never made out with was making chocolate chip cookie cake, which is basically just a 8 inch pile of 12 inch chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter in between the layers to keep it together. When she cut the cake into only four pieces I hinted that two pound servings of such a rich and heavy dessert might be a little much but she got all pouty about my suggestions so we fucked instead.
The rat infestation at the villa took a new turn, some of the rats learned that by being cute and doing tricks now and then, they get spared the flame-thrower. One rat was even wearing an easter bonnet and fake eyelashes. I pointed the flame thrower at him just to fuck with him but he totally knew I was bluffing and gave me a fake fear face. Confident cross dressing rats are pretty cool, like that even needs to be said.
Later on there was a poop joke telling competition and my friend from Australia was going head to head with Craig Ferguson. I thought my friend was the hands down winner because Australian accents beat Scottish accents in the funny department as far as scatological terminology is concerned. Say "poop" in both accents if you don't believe me.
The cab driver on the way home kept talking about cool buildings he'd "heard about".
"You mean you have never even seen the Twisty Hotel?" I asked.
"No, but I'm sure it's the greatest thing in the whole world."
"That is architectural hearsay."
I think the dumbest shit is clever when I'm drunk.
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