Blizzards and Poop

The weather affected us all in some deep and meaningful way. Perhaps you didn’t go get to see your Brother’s Band, Giant Steps, play in Albuquerque. Or maybe you were someone who had some other sort of travel problem, one that I probably don’t care about. Or perhaps you built an igloo, or giant snow statue of Lenin.

Perhaps you built a snow toilet, and pooped in it, reading a snow paper that you also built.

Perhaps you used it as an excuse to try out your new snow bong.

Whatever the reason, it had some effect on you, probably, and whatever was, it’s over now. So stop crying about it. I said stop, stop crying you baby.

“Stop crying, you baby!” I said.

Hell-o-ween

It be Hell-o-ween, a-gain, my friends. A time of yarr when the dead beckon, the wenches dress to me likin’, and skeletons be scarin’ ye out of ye pantaloons.

Join me in a swig of grog, to the dead, to the living, and to the wenches!!

Ahoy, Cap’n

Pirates are a proud people, people that pass pints around, pimp women, prop up poles, and pray prawn population polls power pelican poop parties.

Am I right?

If mark foley were a clown, I would take my son far away, but foley would somehow pop up. We’d be looking into a candy store, the window reflecting our plump, naked bodies. Not naked. You, mother, holding my hand. I, with a novelty sized lollipop in hand, licking away with a shirt that’s just barely too short. Then, walking traffic breaks, only for a nanosecond — the universe is expanding inside my shorts I am breaking stones — I am licking furiously the hard popsicle — and there, in the background: At first a clown: The balloons.

No. It’s –

mark foley.

The sunuvabitch crawled up out of his shithole, bought himself a dirty clown suit, made it all the way to DENTON, TX. (cue cheer from inhabitants of DENTON). And now he’s here, behind us, in the window.

I turn, frightened. Hand clenching yours tightly.

no one is there.

Years later, on RTD light-rail, sitting in the middle, where the train actually turns — watching people disappear — glancing to the floor, sticky and dirty from rain: Denver Daily News. On the cover, a picture. 13 dead, murdered by a mad clown. Looking up, I see the same picture, right in front of me, newspaper spread eagled. Methodically, he begins to lower the paper –

it is a man who looks vaguely like mark foley, but is really somebody else. I am mildly annoyed.

BOO-YA! In yer face! O, reader, how you fall so quickly for my blatant attempts to make you think it was going to be mark foley. lol.

Arrrrr! Memories….

Yestarrrday twas a good day to be a pirate. Grog was had and wenches were harassed! I encourage ye’all to make a month of it. Talk like a pirate month it be! Arrr!

I saw the live tour of So You Think You Can Dance last night, and it was OMG!!!!! BFF!!!!!!!!!! It was freaking awesome! Allison and Ivan did both the contemporary routine and (OMG!) the shane sparks hip-hop routine with the umbrellas!!!!! Benji wuz there, and of course he was HILARIOUS! He even talked about him and Donyelle, and they did the “too much booty in the pants” routine! Plus they did the zombie dance with everybody, and a tribute to….that’s right, DISCO!

I mean….uh…..ARRRRRR!