Thursday, October 31, 2002

The horror! The horror!
I've always wondered why Eric keeps the door to his room shut all the time, even when he's not in it. Is he afraid I'm going to snoop through his stuff? Is he secretly harboring a fugitive?

Actually, no. Tonight I think I discovered the reason when I had to go into his room to fix our phone line. The reason Eric keeps his door shut, I think, is to save my virgin stomach from the horror that is his room, or, as I am now calling it, Eric's Den of Filth. As most of you know, I am not exactly a neat freak. There have been times when you can barely see the floor of my bedroom. But the worst I'm guilty of is stacks of magazines or schoolwork piled up on the floor, or a rumpled ball of clothes in my butterfly chair. Eric's Den of Filth, however, is on a whole new level. I cannot describe the particulars of the filth for fear of regurgitating all of the Hershey Miniatures I have eaten today; however, suffice it to say that my iniatition to the Den of Filth has led me to renew my pledge to marry a gay man. Fortunately, I now know where to find one.

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