Like Everyone Else, I Was Much Happier in the 1830s
Far be it from me to tell people how to live their lives, but when I went past the Pedestrians Crossing sign today on Schmeb Street during on my weekly walk down to the creek to rinse out my toothbrush, I almost got sick to my stomach. It’s one thing for cheesy celebrities to lose weight until they’re not much more than stick figures, but when the stick figures start doing the same nonsense, I have to cry foul. The couple on that Pedestrians Crossing sign used to be hearty, even robust, and even though their bodies were nothing to remember, being little more than black lines with a dot on top of them to signify heads, now suddenly they’ve each dropped about a third of their weight in this insane Hollywood-driven chase to be as skinny as possible. Dudes, you’re on a Pedestrian Crossing sign in the middle of Blankenship, Iowa; your careers aren’t going anywhere, so eat a sandwich or something and be normal, for God’s sake. I thought they were the end of it, but when I went into the library later on to see if that copy of Ahoy, Israelite! had been returned, the freaking silhouette over the water fountain with her finger pressed to her lips to signify silence was about two dress sizes thinner than at Christmas. So you can brush off the influences of Cosmopolitan and Teen People and General Motion Picture Information Magazine, but this has gotten insane. Do I find the faceless stick figures on these signs ten times hotter than I used to? Of course, yes, obviously. That doesn’t mean they should starve themselves to get my attention. Just my two cents.
I’ll tell you what else I’d like to see ended real soon: these spooky dreams where George Plimpton is my boss at Dunkin’ Donuts and he is NOT happy that I over-fudged the double chocolates. Seriously, I have never seen anyone so angry. He’s, like, shaking.