IPOD
RADIO
Whoo hoo am I hung over. I dunno how many High Lifes I had but it was a plenty.
Met up with tatooed donkey at the parkside to witness the spectacle that is the ghosts.
woo hoo! fun fun fun.
-tuff
Met up with tatooed donkey at the parkside to witness the spectacle that is the ghosts.
woo hoo! fun fun fun.
-tuff
The envelope had arrived three weeks ago. It was conspicuously placed precisely in the center of the welcome mat outside the apartment door but cocked ever so slightly, as if by an afterthought to give the appearance of a casual disregard for pefrect placement. Her full given name, Eugenia Elaine Cockburn, was cleverly inscribed on the dark red envelope with a gentle, sloping flourish.
Only a handful of people knew Gene's full given name and most of them were supposedly dead. She eyed the envelope suspiciously and gently prodded it with the toe of her pumps much as she would if she came home to find a dead rat festering on her welcome mat.
She expelled all of the air from her lungs and bent to take the offending envelope. Her hand hovered just above the envelope, testing the surrounding air for heat. Determining that the envelope posed no immediate physical harm to her, she quickly snatched it and jammed it in the pit of her arm, allowing her to fish in her handbag for her keys and unlock her door.
Once inside her apartment, Gene tossed the envelope on the kitchen table and dropped her bag and blazer on the floor. She stared at the envelope for what seemed like hours before turning and walking to the bathroom to draw a bath.
She returned to the kitchen and gave the envelope a passing glance before grabbing a large tumbler. The glass was expertly filled with two large ice cubes and a generous but measured pour of bourbon that could only be perfected by a person who has spent many hours behind a bar serving sympathy in two-finger increments. Her arm moved the glass to her lips in a fashion that indicated she had spent equal time on both sides of the bar and the brown fluid passed quickly between the cubes and down her throat confirming that Gene's approach to doling out sympathy was more than just cathartic.
Only a handful of people knew Gene's full given name and most of them were supposedly dead. She eyed the envelope suspiciously and gently prodded it with the toe of her pumps much as she would if she came home to find a dead rat festering on her welcome mat.
She expelled all of the air from her lungs and bent to take the offending envelope. Her hand hovered just above the envelope, testing the surrounding air for heat. Determining that the envelope posed no immediate physical harm to her, she quickly snatched it and jammed it in the pit of her arm, allowing her to fish in her handbag for her keys and unlock her door.
Once inside her apartment, Gene tossed the envelope on the kitchen table and dropped her bag and blazer on the floor. She stared at the envelope for what seemed like hours before turning and walking to the bathroom to draw a bath.
She returned to the kitchen and gave the envelope a passing glance before grabbing a large tumbler. The glass was expertly filled with two large ice cubes and a generous but measured pour of bourbon that could only be perfected by a person who has spent many hours behind a bar serving sympathy in two-finger increments. Her arm moved the glass to her lips in a fashion that indicated she had spent equal time on both sides of the bar and the brown fluid passed quickly between the cubes and down her throat confirming that Gene's approach to doling out sympathy was more than just cathartic.
SO I'm back from five days of vacationing in a dry county in rural kentucky. Managed to not get sun burned and had a pretty decent time blowing stuff up. They sell some pretty amazing fireworks in KY.
My armpits used to rarely smell.
If I'd been involved in some extra-strenuous physical activity, then maybe my pits would mildly stink.
Now, just taking a nap seems to drive the odor glands into an olfactory frenzy. The smell is different now; a mildy pleasent musk compared with the nose curling smell of hippie stank.
Maybe I'll go to the store and switch anti-persperant/deoderant brands today. Maybe today is the day I become an Old Spice man. I might as well pick up a bottle of Cutty Sark while I'm at it.
Tuffy the Sailor Man, Poot Poot
If I'd been involved in some extra-strenuous physical activity, then maybe my pits would mildly stink.
Now, just taking a nap seems to drive the odor glands into an olfactory frenzy. The smell is different now; a mildy pleasent musk compared with the nose curling smell of hippie stank.
Maybe I'll go to the store and switch anti-persperant/deoderant brands today. Maybe today is the day I become an Old Spice man. I might as well pick up a bottle of Cutty Sark while I'm at it.
Tuffy the Sailor Man, Poot Poot
Yeah! My favorite bar reopened last night after being closed for 100 days. It was like a high school reunion.
Tonight I'mseeing Gillian Welch. So excited.
Tonight I'mseeing Gillian Welch. So excited.
Gave my dog a bath yesterday. He no longer smells like shoes and fritos.
Met Judah Bauer last night. Very nice guy.
Met Judah Bauer last night. Very nice guy.
So I found out today that a friend of mine has a friend who works at Fubu.
He's from Iceland. I guess that mean that the For Us By Us means for For Ultra White Blonde Haired Blue Eyed Anglos for Ultra White Blonde Haired Blue Eyed Anglos.
Word.
He's from Iceland. I guess that mean that the For Us By Us means for For Ultra White Blonde Haired Blue Eyed Anglos for Ultra White Blonde Haired Blue Eyed Anglos.
Word.
Holy Smokes! Dia had a wet dream about me! Talk about role reversal - an SG fantasizing about one of us regular joes!
