Took my daughter out for dinner tonight to make up for her being busy this weekend. We will spend next Sunday together as well, which is usually part of her weekend with her mother.

On the way home we passed 'P.J. Gilbert's World of Carpet'. My daughter told me she had never been in there, so I told her that inside was an actual world of carpet. It was like the world outside only instead of grass they had carpeting. The trees and the people were covered in carpets as well, and giant vacuum cleaners fed off the lint and chased everyone around.

Incidently, I know P.J. He used to live in my hamlet when we were both about six. I remember pretending to be in the movie Billy Jack. P.J. played Billy Jack and I was a reporter interviewing him. He lay dying on the grass behind the barn next to our house and I asked, "Billy Jack, do you have any final words?" He gasped in reply, "You got Pickle Breath."

Well now P.J. has his own whole freckin world of carpet with giant vacuum cleaners and everything.

Fuck you P.J. I do not have pickle breath.