Why Do You Say Nothing About My New Socks?

For weeks you have been carping & complaining & otherwise making me feel like a pauper or a homeless person by telling me how frayed & grubby my socks are. Now that I have gone out - at great expense to my self-esteem - & gotten a new pair, you have said NOTHING. You have not even noticed them! What's the point of being such a dick & making me feel so bad if you aren't even going to notice when I make the CHANGE that you want me to make?

At this point I should make sure you know that I now have more than one pair of socks. I will add that I don't have more than two COMPLETE pairs of socks, but since you've begun ignoring my socks, I may return to my admittedly lazy habit of wearing mismatched pairs. I would like to certainly be able to explain where exactily my socks' partners have ended up, but I really don't know. There was an entire episode of CSI: Pflugerville about this, although it won't air until after the people who wrote it are allowed to write again after scabbing during the writers' strike.

I'm sick of talking about socks now. I'm going to go listen to my radio show, which is called Self Help Radio. Last Friday's show, which was not about socks (sadly) but instead was about guessing (radly) is up over at the Self Help Radio website. So even though I was there, I feel like I missed it, & if you feel that way, too, you should go listen to it.

I warn you, though. I did that show in my old socks.