Why you look-a so sad?
Remember that song? It was called “Shaddap You Face,” a parody on a stereotypical Italian mother telling her son that she feared he wouldn’t amount to anything. I remember the chorus:
Whatsa matta you? Hey! Gotta no respect.
Whaddya tink you do? Why you look-a so sad?
It’s-a not so bad. It’s-a nice-a place.
Ah, shaddap-a you face.
The rest of the words are funny, too — tune was like 27 verses long. I’ll have to look them up. It was kind of like “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” and “Macarena”: silly, catchy, but ultimately overplayed and eventually deep-sixed where it belonged.
OK. I hate weekends. Is that a bad thing? I think it’s because I lack a project. Well, that, and some other stuff. But I’m growing restless. Is it that I miss the aggravation? Could be. My hunch is that I’m going to have all I can handle come the end of the month when exam scores are sent. Then I’ll have me a project. Yeah.
I would like for you to comment on this drawing. Does anyone besides me see Mr. Limpet?
Fink, in a funk