Thursday, 30 July 2009
and i was stroking Hunter when it really began to come down hard and got terrifically loud so i gently put him down and grabbed my phone and ran out on the balcony. i totally couldn't capture any of the horizontal rain and in truth, these pics are teh suck.
when i came back in i was freezing my ass off cause i'd run out in my bare feet wearing only my 'The Perverse Must Persevere / Book Of Larry 112' Alabama 3 T-shirt (2003) and cut-offs and that's when Hunter boldly came up and fucking bit me. i'd link to the twit (and prolly shall but tomorrow or never) but i'm too tired to find it now. here he is in prison, his punishment for daring to open his liddle mouf to me in any other way than to kitty-kiss me with his tongue.
awww... poor baby. too bad this pic came out so tiny and all but i've never been able to control or predict photos' sizes on any of the three Razrs i've owned (my main complaint with em).
in other news, i wanted to talk about Tony Longworth, birthday_boy, The Weather Pixie (newly linked under Reservoir Dogs), my interview by Q which switched links, fuck knows how long ago and The Animal Rescue Site but they'll have to wait cause i haven't slept since tuesday night. this brilliance was a snap decision i made about 06,30 this AM when Twitter began to get a bit lively, just as i was off to crash. so i stayed awake instead. my bad.
wait — almost forgot. some dude i've never met made some wack assumptions and actually twat @me:
'...all those classic rock acts you love, they were popular and commercially successful...'
as i twat back, in complete and utter disbelief, 'what the fuckity fuck RU talking about? classic rock acts i love? CLASSIC ROCK? dude, U don't know me—they're ALL BOOR-RING!/Homer' but that's the BIGGEST. LOLZ. TODAY. *snigger*
how in fuckall he came up with that shit is totally beyond beyond, totally whacked outta the ballpark of my understanding, but every time i see it, i just about bust a gut laughing my ass off. y'all can bet yer asses i'm gonna be sending everyone over to read it cause nobody i know'll believe me (and looking at it much later, i took a screenshot in case he trashes it so click to embiggen and it does, way muchly).
and i'm gonna find a LOLCat with which to punctuate, so BRB. or not. whatever. *yawn* i seepy. iz tiem for my medication, hoorah! finally! Endlich! hahaha... 'classic rock acts i love...' holy hell, where did i go wrong?
*snigger* wait — don't answer. i don't have the time.
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Wednesday, 29 July 2009
fuckin-A! it's my main man, the Very Reverend D Wayne Love preachifying at the Brook in Southampton last thursday night.
naturally, when Darren sent these pics to me, he didn't bother giving details of the show but scanning his Twitter page (and trying to ignore the secret snark against me, 'secret' cause i wasn't @'d) i came up with this paltry shite:
'Whoop,Whoop. Off to see Alabama 3 in Southampton. Cheers @Rock_Freebase'.
(editor's note: image via @setmajer) but lovely... NOT cause now i have the worst earwig in the world: 'Whoop, whoop! thass the sound of the police!' a liddle sump'n that gives a much yearned-for nod (and i do mean nod) to alla us — y'know, we 'pill-poppin' hollerin' deviants' — and always gets the entire audience going mad when Larry, Be (Be's on Twitter, yay), Devlin, Harpo Strangelove and/or Errol & Company hold out their mics to the crowd for us all to holler back
*ripped crooked grin* would you believe me if i said i did it on purpose? nah, didn't think so — it's that Tourette's thingy; you're lucky if you don't have it. *cough* here's the rest of Darren's review of the show:
'Just back from Southampton. Band on top form as usual. Didn't get to see @Rock_Freebase but had a good chat with Jake pre gig'.
gonna try to upload as many of these as i can but since i'm working, this is gonna take an age. remember y'all, CLICK and open in another tab for bigass huge-ossity.
Mountain of Love, Rock Freebase and the one and only LB Dope on drums (please notice Mountain's open Mac, an integral bit of the Alabama 3):
Larry Love, Sir Eddie Real on congas, Devlin Love and The Spirit of Love on keyboards:
y'all can see
moving right along and back to the star of the show — me — *whispers* well, at least the star of this here tawdry page, it youse look over to the right you'll see i've added one of my all-time fave photos of me (which i called 'totally self-absorbed' and placed above the 'it's all about me' section), taken by — y'all guessed it — me cause apart from the photos Mick took for the Role Models Show (more on that in a bit), i take the bestest photos of myself except for this one which some straight dude took back in NYC about 11, 12 years ago:
he had the bestest reefer around and he made housecalls on his Harley so when he asked to shoot me, i gave him my permission, then turned. he shouted whilst i smirked (above). and yes, i was blond — big whoop and big duh. the kimona i'm wearing's about 200 years old and at this very moment's at this expert tailor who's way experienced mending olden silk cause the lining got totally fucked somehow. and here's me after a long hard afternoon of drinking and drugging when i already had my pajamas bottoms on and then decided it was the perfect time to take my own pic. no luk at teh mess, luk at Hunter.
anyway, about that Role Models Show which supposedly was to be in London last Spring: welp, i hadn't seen Mick at my hairdressers' lately and finally asked after his bad ol' self. turns out he moved back to Austria (or Czech Republic; they weren't quite sure) and dig: his pics of me were shown in Vienna (or Prague). i can't get a hold of him and lord knows, i've tried and for months and months now, dammit to hell. }-(
i've got a shitload of other stuff, mostly about the Animals Rescue Site and the most hilarious DVD i've seen in ages but they'll have to wait cause i'm doing my usual: stealing Time from boss-dude and it being like almost midnight with my next deadline looming at 09,00, i'm gonna have to tip so i can type my ass off and then crash. peace out, yo. no wait — war out, yo. :-)
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Tuesday, 28 July 2009
hey wait — wrong image. then again, it tranquillises me more betterer than most other things cause i love skulls and otherworldly mechanicals. IMO it looks Terminator-ish or even Predatory-ey. anyway, thanks to Christine, i've been gazing — practically hypnotised — on the images way below cause today was an almost total waste — i was working but what's worse than that, it was fulla anxiety and other negative thingies. i was so very tempted to drop a few V.s but held myself back cause i hate wasting em.
big thanks to Pam in Brixton for sending me the above — it's totally me, especially today cause i WUTM at about 14,00 (i'm lying already cause 14,00 sure ain't the AM no matter how one looks at it) after only like seven hours' sleepy time. i know this cause i read back on my twits and this one's the earliest i could find, the first i twat today in reply to my old friend
'tryna decide whether/not i should take "what are you doing?" literally a la #Aspergers *evil* massive unfollows ensue #thisismecaring hmm...' in all troofiness, i haven't yet decided. what brought this on is my growing disgust at moronic celebrities and the ever-increasing LCD-ers who follow, who've, in my incredibly incisive estimation, totally ruined Twitter. between that shit and the motherfucking Twitter-Grader, they've totally turned it into a fucking popularity contest. i mean, take Demi's stud Ashton Jew-surname competing with CNN for followers: WHAT THE FUCK does one have to do with the other? but hey, whaddoo i know? hey, maybe Twitter's like our first babystep to reaching total Idiocracy? but thinking that way is where madness lies... as well as paranoia, hmmpf.
in more boring Twitter news, here's a helpful hint redux (too lazy to link to where i first mentioned): if you follow me and i don't follow back, y'all should know it's cause whether or not you've filled in your bio (i won't follow those who don't) or whether or not you have a website, i've read your front page twits and found sump'n totally offensive — e.g., 'I've just had my nails done'.
if the nails-braggart had added sump'n about how dudes broke in and raped her but not wanting to ruin her still-wet nails, she didn't put up much of a fight then i'd definitely follow back, but no. then there're the ones who twit whatever insipiddy like 'I miss Michael Jackson'. if they'd only included the kiddy-fiddler bit, i'd have a bit more respect for em, but they never do. it's oxygen suckers who've twat crap like that who convince me they got shorted in the brains department and so, not worth my time, but yet, they follow. anyway, my apologies to those not on Twitter but i had to get all the above off my chest (AFAIC, only an expression).
moving right along, thank you Christine, for sending me these; i totally love em and zoning out on em is the perfect tranquilliser AFAIC.
Cutest. Baby. EVar. if i were a furry animal, i'd totally be a raccoon or any other variety of those who emerge naturally masked (but my first choice's Raccoon). anyhoo, even more tranquillising are these liddle duckies. IMO, natch.
OK, this is teh funny (thanks, Chris as well as to this dude):
if y'all find it unreadable, please click link above and it'll embiggen right before your very eyes — amazing! as well as totally worth the clicking. in other news, i sent my sister this BBC article: 'America Gets Fatter' and added '....i remember when they first did this shit in late 80s/early 90s, DISGUSTING'. taste the venom for which i once again 'thank' Iron Mommy for teaching us too well. wait.
CORRECTION: the other day i called her a 'butterball' over here and she moaned in mail that i made her sound like she'd always been. can't find her mail now, but this is to say, she'd only been heavy for like five years. anyway, when i told my liddle sister i admired her most recent outburst and blamed IM, she replied, 'Mommy isn't venomous. Just neurotic'.
*rolls eyes* whatever. 'OK, then'. *in a John Goodman voice* anyway, back to my sister and her
'Let's face it ... fat people are in denial. It's like "lose the fucken weight already" so you don't have to even CONSIDER large sizes. But nooooooooo ... They now post calories in fast-food places (don't ask how many calories Dunkin' Donuts are); it's like the Surgeon General stamp on cigarette packs.
'These assholes KNOW all this shit is bad for them, but they keep doing it anyway. So fuck 'em ... if they want to think they're really a size 10 when they're a size 84, let them. I don't give a shit. They still look like crap. All I know is I am SO over this stuff... I lost my weight almost 17 fuckin' years ago and am STILL a size 4. Eat your goddamn hearts out, fatasses!!!!'
in related news, i found the above killing bastard time over at MyBlogLog, sump'n which is so inaccurate and untimely, it's pathetic. but i managed to hook up with two way cool dudes — my most excellent friend Chuck — @nonliteral on Twitter — and Nick Humphries, @nickhumphries on guess what? *whispers* i stoled the image from Nick.
haha, just remembered: today i learnt that someone we know has confused 'serial monogamy' with 'serial dating' AND/or — get this — 'serial killing'. i'm sooo dying to link to these but won't for one reason only: i don't do shit like that when the very few people i respect are involved. helpful hint: i'm an easy-peasey read: right after we spot each other, if y'all see a look on my face that appears as a superior 'what the fuck?', it's a sure-as-shit thing i don't respect you. let's move on.
there's LOTS more stuff i'm dying to spill, all of a personal nature, but i'm not yet ready for the hordes to descend and rip me apart so for now, it'll all stay within, much to my — and your (if you knew to whom it concerned) — dismay. and so, i'll leave y'all with this, sump'n i made like in Summer '04 and for the life of me, i dunno why.
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Monday, 27 July 2009
editor's note: i added pics of Minty and Pepper below, both photographed by Talia and stoled offa her site. if i had a kid, i'd wannit to be Talia, actually. just sayin'.
after waiting way over a year or so, on saturday afternoon the Lazybones Family trooped in and i finally got to meet Talia, seen above in her Alabama 3 persona — Li'l Lazy Love — when at Larry Love's request, she introduced the band at last Summer's Trowbridge Festie. but i ended up working my ass off whilst they all slept (blissfully unaware of my woes) in both the bedroom and LR — sump'n i might describe in a future post called 'don't ask cause you don't wanna know'. then last night, after they all took off (i was sad), i finally managed to snag like 12+ hours sleep and woke up about 17,00 today —pure bliss. :-)
anyway, The Main Event began with the traditional Exchange of Gifts. i totally ignored Mr and Mrs Lazy — i think they're lucky they were even invited
*preens even more* i'm SO way flattered, it's incredible cause she kept this a secret from Darren and Tina, wanting it to be a total surprise to them as well as me. in truth, i had no idea this is some kinda young Brit craze until i Googled. when i saw how vasty a thing it is, you can bet i'll be showing everyone i know and knowing me, more than once cause i'll definitely forget to whom i showed it off already.
*whispers* thing of it is, after being told its name, i couldn't help it: The Fun Lovin' Criminals' Scooby Snacks was playing in my mind's ears the entire time they were here (and i knew it was inappropriate for me to mention so it played on and On and ON though i was dying to pass it along, at least by actually blasting it). whenever i hear it i can't help but think of the night Delia and Mary flew in from Dublin and somehow spirited me away to the FLCs' show and then backstage and i wanted to tell
nb: the search function on this piecacrap blogger's still not working or i'd link to the post with
moving right along and away from a tiny detail i just noticed after i made damn sure on friday to remove any flat-ly evidence of same, i wore Talia's most excellent Scooby until i had my bath today and now i can't get it back on :-(
OK, after the requisite (and way boring) hanging out ('way boring' cause i was feigning interest to all but Talia), we took off in search of fudz so we could indulge in Saturday Night Noms. as we walked along the streets of Clifton, we went past The Bristol Museum where the Banksy Show's at. i spotted a new Banksy on the facade, one i'd swear wasn't there the day before.
yup, it's Ronald McDonald (i might puke, actually). then we found a dynamite Italian restaurant on Park Row whose name escapes me at the moment, but it's like within a ten minutes' walk from mine. i had a delicious steak and they had... i dunno, don't remember. i only recall what Tina had: the biggest calzone i'd seen in my life and i only remember cause i asked the waiter to wrap up her huge amount of leavings and had it for dinner late last night. yum and thank you, Mrs Lazy. :-)
we drank, we ate, we paid and with Talia and Fam safely outside, i stopped at the table of two straight Uni students cause the chick had been turning round to stare at me all through our dinner and hipped her BF to do the same. i told em sump'n that hadn't passed my lips in decades: 'take a picture, it lasts longer'. bullshit lying on their end ensued; the dude tried to tell me he didn't know what i was on about whilst his overweight date threw me daggers.
it was at that point i went 'i beg to differ especially if you look at her *points to fat chick* cause the imprint of the back of the chair is still in the flab of her upper left shoulder'. this ended with Uni-dude getting all shouty cursing me out and drawing the attention of the rest of the restaurant's clientele. knowing the Lazys were outside waiting, i flipped em the bird (American style) which served its purpose: Uni-dude and overweight date were outraged and got louder and louder. i really wanted to take a phone-pic of the impression of the chair cut deep in her shoulder but knew she wouldn't permit it. as well, i wanted to wait around to see if they got thrown out (as i hoped — not for staring, but for lying) but i couldn't so i quickly met up with the Lazys whom, to their credit, looked neither impatient nor pissed, as i would've been.
then we came back here, little Talia crashed and then the adults took over, enhanced by the usual whatevers about which i won't get specific *cough* big hint, Darren
hmmpf, Darren... i mean, really — first off, here's proof positive i'm 'barely housebroken' — (so y'all should've kept that in mind before humiliating me). and knowing you were driving up, i didn't think i was outta place asking you to help me out and this is why; that post chronicles the long uphill climb i must make with 10 kilo bags of kitty litter bought not at the nearby Sains on Queens Road (oh no, that'd be too easy) but after a 15-20 minutes' walk to the bigger Sains on Whiteladies, then a 15-20 minutes' walk back and then all the way uphill dragging the damn bags along.
but to their credit (and my huge relief), they brought me not one but three bags of my preferred (cheapest as well as bestest) kitty litter. anyway, Darren, you might remember (check prior link if you don't), this's my POV when i'm only halfway up Lower Clifton Hill.
oh wow — almost forgot: i gave one of my too-many cellphones to Talia (after a discussion with Darren on friday) and knowing she loves taking photos of all kindsa things apart from her rats Minty and — OH NOES! i forget teh othe rat's naim (i torry, liddle dude) :-(
CORRECTION at 20,03 on 28. july. Talia's rats are called Minty and Pepper. and here they are, first Minty, then Pepper:
so sorry i forgot your name, liddle Pepper dude. anyway, i helped her begin her own blog (she's almost 10 so i made it un-searchable). when i finally dragged my self outta bed late this afternoon, i was delighted to read Darren's '@slum_goddess The minute Talia got home she was on the phone to her friend to tell her about the blog site you set up for her'. :-)
in other news, a big thank-you to everyone who txtd and mailed last night to say Hunter S Thompson was on BBC-2, especially Angie in London, Abeizer in Manc and Dragnim — '6 miles East of HappyLand'. which reminds me, i don't wanna moan more than i do but dig:
fun-fact: getting txts or mails that read e.g., '22,00 BBC-2' do nothing for me; it's kinda like people's sigs that say 'Read my blog!' — AFAIC, a simple URL does the job nicely and anyway, i avoid bending to commands as much as i legally can. back to txts and mails with times and dates sans description, they're immediately trashed cause why bother checking out sump'n without knowing what it's about? i mean, how do they know that what i'm doing isn't more intristin' (or important) than what they're telling me to see?
regarding the txts, i'd turned my phone to Silent as i do every night (or i totally turn it off, depends upon what's happening) and didn't read em till i got up this afternoon and my mail client was shut down cause i was working and i didn't bother to fire it up till today. thing of it is, if i hadn't snagged Gonzo at Fopp a few weeks back (for a small fraction of UK Amazon's price), i would be verily pissed i missed it. but i had and so i wasn't. :-)
right, before i forget, on friday night, Mr and Mrs Ifor The Engine went down to Brighton to catch Urban Voodoo Machine. here's the beautiful Sarah in the early hours of 4. july, my own personal Independence Day (found in my phone):
pic details say it was taken at 04,10 and all i can say is i wish i could appear like that at any 4AM after a long hard night busy drinking and stuff. and i actually don't remember WTF i was doing or where the hell i took the pic. i do know i went to London that day cause my iPod says so (it also says i ate at that lovely Eritrean place with Chris and some of his colleagues and that i remember). and i know we had Noms next day at Mango Landing with Chris, Sarah, Rich and Pam. how do i know? cause my iPod tells me so.
hmmpf... there was an Outlaw at Jamm that night, one i think i missed... next day i was on my way back to Bristol to meet up with D Wayne Love in his regular state of being as Jake, someone who knows to leave his stage persona where it belongs: onstage. i do remember i was verily pleased he invited me. :-) and i saved all his txts as he encouraged me along, first back home and then to the party, every step of the way. *sigh*
hey, wait: maybe i did go to that particular Outlaw cause reading back, i'd posted '...i have nothing better to do than wait on permission to expand upon an incident (let's call it) that happened at a party here in Bristol early sunday AM, a gathering to which i was invited by none other than The Very Reverend D Wayne Love, i mean, Jake. wonder of wonders, i thought i'd have a heart attack when he asked me outside Jamm on friday night...' WTF? i can only assume i went though the gig's totally not in my memory.
from her mail: 'Just thought I'd send a couple of piccies from last night (don't know how good they'll come out), we do love this band! What a night, great gig, fab tunes then eating sandwiches on Brighton sea front at 3am before getting the 4 o'clock train home, excellent...'
from Rich's mail: '...Brighton was great, excellent gig if a little under attended and the club afterwards was excellent, superb mix of music and the band mingling in with the crowd — we got in at about 7 this morning...'
ahhhh... big thanks, Sarah and Rich. *love* there's a funny story on how we all hooked up cause for the longest time, both Chris and i thought Sarah was this way messed-up PITA who constantly bothered us for our all-access (or 'Downstairs with the Band' or *snigger* VIP Room) bracelets but i won't get into that now. suffice it to say, sometime last year when they spotted me in the pub and waved or sump'n, i went over to their table (totally outta courtesy) and couldn't wait to leave so about 30 seconds later, i was halfway outta my seat when Rich told me his screen-name and my ass hit the chair again — hard — in happy surprise. :-)
wait — almost forgot: Sarah took this of Jake and Rob 'in the early hours of 5th April 09 at Jamm; they were using it as a warm up before the Australia tour over Easter'.
i think it's one of the best photos of Jake and/or D Wayne i've ever seen recently. *sigh* TY for photos and info,
and that be it for now. oh, wait; three more things: 1) big thanks to Chris for giving me those chocolates wrapped round the treacle (from that place in Wisconsin that's famous for em but naturally which i forget its name)
2) message to Darren (@several_species on Twitter and Lazybones on FreeA3): thanks for giving my bathroom The Lazy Light Of Love but you totally forgot to open my drawers, dammit. you best believe i'm so gonna get you for that oversight no matter if it was on purpose or whatever. with the usual caveat, if i remember so i shall make a memorandum of it in my iPod. if i remember.
3) message to Tina: 'Open your flaps!' or maybe 'Show us your flaps!' — whichever, i just remembered. *snigger*
shit! what was i tawkin bout again? nah, i don't know either unless i read up but i can't/won't cause i've got bastard work and so no time. whatever. hmmpf... one chocolate left. i shall cram the entire thing in my wordhole in just a second or two. OK, goddit. *CHOMP!* mmmpf! mmmpf! (translated means):
mmmmmm... *in a Homer voice* BEST. CHOCOLATE-COVERED TOFFEE. EVAR. *in a Comicshop Guy voice* glurghlldroolll... *in a Homer voice*
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Friday, 24 July 2009
i'd been putting Iron Mommy off long enough cause she's been bugging my ass about going there for months already and having my signature notarised; sump'n about cashing in Treasury bills or bonds or whatever, sump'n about which i couldn't care less. but i also needed more pages for my passport thanks to all those trips to Dr Pieper in Bonn-Beuel as well as due to the UK's animals quarantine so we had to fly back for my poor liddle boy, Peter (RIP), collect him from Villa Maunz Katzenpension three months after i got here... wait.
hey Frau Lins, i see you; i'm on your homepage — right, Brigitte. Vielen Danke ever so much for taking such great care of Petey but i have a question: the kitty at bottom of the R-hand column looks... just... like him. *whispers* could it be? *weeps*
*cough* now where w— right, why i needed new pages. um. OK, apart from what i said, there were the trips from Bonn to visit Chris in the three months before i got here, plus the almost-yearly trips to NYC and back, every page in my passport was totally filled up with Immigration and Customs stamps. naturally, i think the UK's are the most nicely designed. double-plus un-fun fact: no matter if i flew in/out of DE from Frankfurt or Cologne, the German habit is to use as little ink as possible.
anyway, i took the two pics above whilst talking to some very friendly British cops on Grosvenor Square yesterday afternoon as i smoked a last cigarette outside, all the while thinking 'i can't believe i'm actually taking photos of that flag'. *shudder* last time i was back in the States, it was everywhere, as if we're too fucking stupid to remember where we are. i mean, is it really necessary for every subway car to have it on four places? two in the front and two in the back on both sides? as well as on the inside? wait, don't answer... obviously it is, cause we might forget and think we're in Cuba and go looking for good cigars or whatever.
what's funny is, thanks to one of my oldest Brit friends, the soon-to-be-
from then on, until i left the Embassy, i walked very carefully, hoping it wouldn't like ride up and out the top of my trousers as these things tend to do. great shades of coming back from Germany cause every three months i'd fly in to see Dr Pieper, then we'd always drive the Autobahn over to Maastricht and do our bit for Drug Tourism and every time i came back,
Security was a bitch. they went through my bag, made me take my earphones out of my Union Jack change-purse (the perfect place for em — they're a perfect fit. it crossed my mind they'd take me for a BNP dick, but thankfully, no), hand over my silver Zippo, my iPod, shut down my cellphone and hand it over along with my keys cause i have a liddle flashlight that shines blue as well as a way cool beer bottle opener my exPM gave me hanging off em, take off my cuffs and my belt and the rest of the usual shit one must do to get on an aeroplane these days. thanks, bu$hCo! grrrr...
long story short,
i was really tempted to throw an American one-finger salute up to the flag but figured it wasn't a good idea cause the Security dudes were watching as i silently took my stuff and put it all back on. then i paused to say g'bye to the cool British cops and walked back down Duke Street where i took these next. there'd been like a flash flood ten minutes before which i'd watched out the Embassy window but now the sun was shining brightly as if it'd been out all day and i was so pleased to be free (and remove the contraband from the uncomfortable place in which it was stashed).
OK, here's my POV walking down Duke Street, freaking at the architecture and steeples and shit (thanks again, Dave). notice how, in the first, i was so thrilled to be out and about in London again, i totally included the cars, sump'n i try to avoid whenever i can.
then i joined the hordes on Oxford Street during rush hour and whoa, i was totally restimulated — it was exactly like NYC and just like there, whenever my 'sorry's and liddle shoulder don't work, i end up walking in the street cause for the life of me, i'll never understand why tall people (tall = everyone else) walk so fucking slowly. i made it down the Tube, got to Victoria Station and just as i finished tippy-tapping out a txt ('i'm here'), i got the same from Chris — 'I'm here' — and spotted him across the street. as i approached, i got all shouty — 'GET OUTTA MY HEAD!' — but it was wasted; strangers stared cause thanks to his headphones, he was blissfully unaware of me making a fool of myself.
anyway, he took me to Friar's Inn where i wolfed down The Most Delicious Fish & Chips EVer, we laughed a lot and then we split up, i had a last cig outside, got on the coach and came home, exhausted. i'd only been gone not 11 hours but it felt like 11 days and i was SO pleased to have Hunter all over me; he even sat on my lap after i propped open my eyelids with toothpicks and rebegan working again.
in other news, this is what my fambly think i do all day (watch CatTV)
here's the big man hisself, tryna be all good and shit, showing his lit-tle Smudge-mouth (cause he wants sump'n —'brush', one of the few words in the English language he truly understands):
one more thing: i'm rereading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas for what must be the hundredth time again, just cause it's so funny and cause it's so Hunter and i noticed sump'n i don't recall ever reading before on the frontispiece, this way cool quote by Dr Samuel Johnson:
'He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man'.
LOL, where to begin? happy weekend, y'all. :-)
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