me: “Looks like your boy could be at it again, hood.”* hood: me: “Obstructing the progress of a person of color…”* hood: me: “…the first ever African-American woman to be nominated for Secretary of State.”* hood: me: “Probably not racially motivated, though…”* hood: me: “The Senator’s showy desire to hold up Dr. Rice’s confirmation, I mean.”* hood: me: “Because Barbara Boxer is in it on, too…” hood: me: “…and Teddy

Of course it’s a good idea to cut your own hair.  What, you really think those hacks at Great Clips care about how you look? Now relax and let me work my magic.  You wanted to look like Ashton Kutcher, right…?

me: “So.  Meet any nice people while I was away?” apple: me: “Make any new friends…?” apple: me: “…hello…?” apple: me: “…Oh come on.  You’re not still angry because I didn’t take you to Baltimore with me, are you?” apple: “No, why should I be angry?  After all, what apple wouldn’t enjoy staying here and being fondled inappropriately by that creepy INDC guy for five straight days.” me:  “He did

apple:  “If for Halloween I decide to dress up as a Granny Smith apple, is that considered racist?” me:  “Hmm, I’m not sure.  I know a Kleagle hood you might ask, though…”

me:  “So?  Whaddya think…?’ Levi’s:  “Dude, are those clogs?” me:  “No, they’re Birkenstock Tatami Kyotos.  And they’re huge in Europe.” Levi’s:  “Yeah?  Well here they’re clogs.  Which, how do you plan to accessorize with those—carry a poodle and a Truman Capote novel with you everywhere you go?

me: “So.” apple: “So.” me: apple: me: apple: me: “So.” apple: me: apple: me: “So.” apple: ”What? Fine, change the damn channel.  Just stop staring at me, okay?  You’re giving me the creeps.”

me:  “Tell you one thing:  I wouldn’t want to be in Dan Rather’s shoes right about now, y’know?” Levi’s: “Or his pants either, for that matter..” me:  “Well, yeah, sure.  But I think we’re talking about two entirely different things here…” **** more

apple: “So, how was New York…?” me: “Fine.” apple: ”Fine, eh?  You get a chance to talk to my friend Big Apple?” me: “Briefly, yes.” apple: “He’s one enormous fucking apple, isn’t he?” me: “Yeah, I suppose.” apple: “Huge.  Powerful.  Sinister, even…” me: apple: “Not to be trifled with, wouldn’t you say…” me: apple: “No sir.  Not my friend the Big Apple.  Wouldn’t want to piss him off –” me:

me: “You know racism when you see it, right?  Did you hear anything particularly racist in Zell Miller’s convention speech…?” hood: me: “Besides the obvious racism inherent in a southern drawl, I mean…?” hood: me: “…Because I sure as hell didn’t.” hood: me: “…Didn’t find the speech all that frightening, either.” hood: me: “But then, I’ve never been one to fear a 70-something-year-old man—especially one armed with nothing but an

me: “Tell me something, pants.  Can I still ‘shake it like a Polaroid picture’?” Levi’s: me: “Hello…?” Levi’s:  “Dude, what in the fuck are you talking about…?”