Ghouls Just Want To Have Fun

October 18, 2002

So this New Guinean couple is eating dinner, and the husband says, "I really don’t like your friends," and the wife says, "Fine, next time you cook."

I told that joke to a friend who didn’t think it was nearly as funny as I did, and who called me a ghoul. Me? A ghoul? Ghouls are creatures that haunt graveyards and eat the flesh of the dead. I’d never be a ghoul. Oh, sure, I’ve been a lycanthrope now and then, even though my heart is pure and I say my prayers – well, anyway, I’ve never been a ghoul. I’ve hung around with ifrits, followed a will o’the wisp on occasion, lived with windigos, eaten filet o’Nessie (great on a toasted sesame seed hoagie, by the way), helped a couple of djinns I know open a lamp store, marched with leprechauns to end the discrimination caused by breakfast cereal companies, I have a homonculus in my basement and a domovoi in my attic, tried my luck playing poker with a dybbuk, sailed with selkies, once begged a cigarette off Lucifer, shared my lunch with a sasquatch, and worked for a temp agency that also employed nixies, pixies, dryads, nymphs, bunyips, satyrs, fairies, vodyanois, and a Great Prairie Hidebehind. (Amazing guy–he got a lot done though nobody ever saw him.) The whole place was owned by Baal.

When I was a child I tried, without luck, to explain to my parents that it was really my evil twin who broke the lamp in the living room, but they didn’t believe me and he disappeared. I’m sorry because there’s nothing like a doppelganger when you want to take a day off work. A ghoul? Come on. A guy’s gotta draw the line somewhere. Calling me a ghoul is unfair, it’s wrong, it’s…tasteless.

Enjoy this week’s offerings.

[The following came to me with the title "You Know You Live In Los Angeles When…" And yet some of these seem to be universal…]

Your co-worker has 8 body piercings and none are visible.

You make over $250,000 and still can’t afford a house.

You take a bus and are shocked at 2 people carrying on a conversation in English.

Your child’s 3rd grade teacher has purple hair, a nose ring and is named Breeze.

You can’t remember…Is pot illegal?

You’ve been to a baby shower that has two mothers and a sperm donor.

You have a very strong opinion about where your coffee beans are grown and can taste the difference between Sumatran and Ethiopian.

You know which restaurant serves the freshest arugula.

You can’t remember…Is pot illegal?

A really great parking space can move you to tears.

A low speed pursuit will interrupt ANY television broadcast.

Gas costs 75 cents per gallon more than it does anywhere else in the U.S.

A man gets on the bus in full leather regalia and crotchless chaps. You don’t even notice.

Unlike back home, the guy at 8:30 am at Starbucks wearing the baseball cap and sunglasses who looks like George Clooney IS George Clooney.

Your car insurance costs as much as your house payment.

Your hairdresser is straight, your plumber is gay, the woman who delivers your mail is into BSDM, and your Mary Kay rep is a guy in drag.

You can’t remember…Is pot illegal?

It’s sprinkling and there’s a report on every news station about "STORM WATCH 2000."

You have to leave the big company meeting early because Billy Banks himself is teaching the 4:00 pm Tae Bo class.

You pass an elementary school playground and the children are all busy with their cell phones or pagers.

It’s sprinkling outside, so you leave for work an hour early to avoid all the weather-related accidents.

Hey!!!! Is pot illegal?

You and your cat have therapists.

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