Dancing with an invisible dame whose heels keep on smashing my toes, I'm not wearing combat boots, babe.

It was so windy yesterday...

"How windy was it?"

It was so windy yesterday, it was as if all the pantheons of all the peoples of the world, and Spinal Tap, had just eaten a meal of __________.














Gosh darnit, I just never get tired of that Chimpy. Nor Charles, but each is comical in their own unique way. I do get tired of other stuff, but compiling that list would require years of detailed planning and decades of implementation, time that simply cannot be wasted on anything but delusions of grandeur, and would eventually fill the equivalent of all the scrolls housed in the library at Alexandria pre-fire and if you think I'm inclined to subject myself to the literary equivalent -- I forgot my thesaurus at home, the equivalent of leaving the house without pants, that's a funny story I'll never tell because then I'd have to make one up, the equivalent of being a politician -- of cracking my skull open with a hammer sans anesthesia and somehow managing to remain conscious enough to scoop my brain back inside my cranial cavity, you're sadly mistaken though that would be a pretty cool trick, no? Maybe they could film it and use the best handful of stills for the cover and booklet of the next Cannibal Corpse album. Evisceration plague! Gurgle, growl, etc.!



The original spawn of my sometimes-better-half and yours truly turns 17 today, so thanks, condom manufacturer, for ruining the prime of my life, rot in hell, motherfuckers. I kid, but only 83% worth. Luckily, she's easy to buy for, a case of booze and the keys to a stolen car. Crime does indeed pay, says so all the way up there. Luckily-er still, one area of parenting that I've made great strides in compared to my ancestral folks is successfully instilling in our offspring a healthy disdain for other humans which I feel will serve her well in the aeons to come before the glorious return of Cthulhu, Ia! Ia!

She is, however, fairly indifferent to music -- I know, I know, blasphemy! burn the witch! -- which has always made me wonder if she isn't actually the product of the union of my apparently-worse-half and the UPS guy. What can Brown do to you, I guess. Thus, instead of whiskey and wheels, I think I'll buy her one of those K-Tel classic rock sets the old Brady dude and the chick young enough to be his trophy wife hawk at 3am. Sniff, we all miss you, Billy.



Based on much anecdotal evidence, chiefly DVD reruns of Supernatural season finales, Lunatic Offspring #1 seems to really hate that song above all others. So I'm thinking about doing a download n' burn, hitting the repeat and blaring it for the next week chez moi, the perfect gift, no? Sure, even my wife would likely want to kill me but how that's different from any other day only the gods can answer and they're busy with the aftermath of their drive-through feast. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to sit down. The bloody Moirae did a number on my feet.