July 14th 1993
Frasier took on an agent. Bebe Glazer. I think of her as Bebe Glasher because she's as cold as ice when it comes to being a humanitarian, yet she's just as destructive as the one that sunk the Titanic. She's as blunt as a fifty-pound ramming rod and she has a shadow that seems to move 70 milliseconds after she does. I've warned Frasier not to look deeply into her eyes in fear that Frasier will be the first human to instantaneous combust. His head would more than likely inflate until it gave way like those balloons on top of those clown heads we used to shoot water pistols at at the county fair that Dad use to insist taking us. We tried and tried so hard to win a prize, but the marksmen we weren't we never actually hit the target in the clowns' mouths. Dad was so understanding and prepared. He always brought bath towels so we could dry ourselves.
Maris insisted that we strive to reach the next level of prestige. She went as far as to buy seat warmers for all of our lavatories as well as towel warmers. She keeps burning her hands every time she answers to the call of nature. After hours of tears and working the truth out of her, I discovered that the plastic on the new heated seats where sticking to her. The only way she could free herself was to reach the towel warmers with her foot and trail it over. Well, you can see where this is going.
Daphne brushed by me the other day and the essence of her hair was nothing less than heavenly. Her arm bushed against me and I felt a little light headed. How can she be so heavenly… so graceful… radiating such stunning beauty?