Me and the landlord's cousin It’s my last evening in America for a while. Burbank took me out for ice cream, which I thought was a little suspicious since he will be coming on this trip with me and my agent. But I soon realized his motives when we arrived back at my apartment to find it filled with friends and family. Granted, they were mostly Burbank’s friends and family because he couldn’t locate my address book, but it was the thought that counted. There were high-end saltines and four different kinds of cheeses. Burbank spared no expense.
It was nice to catch up with everyone, and meet a bunch of new people, some who asked for my autograph, and some who asked for my name. I wonder what the point of these good-bye parties are for. Is it just that people are going to miss you for a while or is it more that you need to have closure in case something disastrous happens overseas, like I’m captured by pirates or sentenced to four years in an Indian prison, and I never come home again?
you got chocolate ice cream on your tan shirt. at least you're not a slob like Burbank, spilling his water.
ReplyDelete