If You Were a Hotdog, Would You Eat Yourself?

Do I really even need to answer that question??? Maybe I do. I mean, Eric hates hotdogs, and it's completely psychological. He's so weeeeiiiiiiiird. Weird, but cute. Oh well, here are some other questions.

1) Say you're a giant squid and uh-oh here comes Mr. Sperm Whale and he's half-baked and has the munchies. You look around and all you can see is a wrecked yacht, a half-eaten donut and Carol Channing (in her true form now that she's in her natural habitat). What do you do???

2) There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza, and yes, the stick is too big and the knife is too dull and the wheel is too dry...so, to avoid the endless cycle of the ever-famous-and-wretched song which shall forever end in the hole in the bucket.......how do you fix this problem??? What would do to change the song?

(I personally think making that bitch Liza get the water is a good one.)

3) Which one of the Kurzes' cats peed on my shirt this morning??? Their names are Leo, Cleo, Tigger and Pixie. Leo is hyper like a dog, Cleo and Pixie don't like each other, Pixie is the queen of the palace, and Tigger...well, Tigger seems a bit shyer. So which one, do you think?


Okay, on to other things...

Can you imagine if Beckett had written my play "Acrobat"?

ARTHUR: Waiting around, nothing to be done...
DOUGLAS: The problem is in the air, and in the sex, and in the air.
ARTHUR: Someone's coming!
DOUGLAS: At last, someone!
ARTHUR: Is it Michael?
DOUGLAS: Michael! Is it?
(Donna pops out of an ashbin)
DONNA: Time for love?