pranks make people laugh at other people

this whole week has been difficult:

i'm in love again, this time it's with somekind of beautiful siren who was born and bred in the tamale-stained streets of east l.a.; there are assignments due for every one of my classes, assignments that i am nowhere close to starting; my father keeps reminding me that i'm 24-years-old and that i'm about as independent as a blind cocker spaniel; my mother isn't speaking to me - she hasn't communicated with me since early mother's day morning (1:48am) when she sent me a drunken text that read: "what did i do to make you despise my existence? i love you so much." (...i didn't know how to reply to that particular text, so we still haven't spoken.)

my life appears to be whirling out of control. in fact, the only constant in my life is my athlete's foot. it never goes away, and, as an adolescent, it would really bother me -- everyone called me "fungus" in high school -- but as an adult, I have come to love the fungus on my feet...it is a constant reminder of how ridiculously unsanitary each of us really is, that is, behind all the brilliantly deceptive designer layers with which we enshroud ourselves.

my athlete's foot and i are a dying breed. no one appreciates good fungus anymore, but it embodies a number of meritorious qualities that deserve to be spoken of/about:

fungus is friendly
fungus cares
fungus is dependable
fungus coats your feet with a layer of dead skin, which is useful when running/walking barefoot on hot pavement
fungus is a great listener
fungus never lies
et cetera
et cetera