TFIF, Shakers! What’s your poison?
Filed under 01_shakespeares_sister
egads, am i really the first one in here?
i’ll have a real drink this time then – two fingers of glenmorangie neat, and a cigar!
I’m with radar. Plus maybe a couple advil. It’s been a day.
by the way, anybody got any leapers? i had about a half hour of sleep last night.
mmmmmm, beer …
Well, I feel like going against some gender stereotypes, so something sweet and fruity for me. And keep ’em coming!
i may not be sweet and fruity, but i’m tart ‘n’ tiny!
wait a second. that doesn’t sound too good…………
Just a nice daquiri to help a very long, very stressful week — in work and politics — go away.
Chilled Dr Pepper on the rocks TO GO, por favor. I must go about my duties at the Ministry of Silly Walks. 😉
I need some ROCKS in my whiskey!
WHERE is Gravel?! Is he still with the queers?
rocks? not for me – but a dewdrop of distilled highland waters.
[*cough, hack*] sorry about the cigar, you guys. i just have to indulge myself once in awhile – especially with a single malt that costs about a day’s pay per glass.
is there a good chippie or a curry stand near gravel’s? i’m but a tourist here in shakesville…..i’m, uh, from…..canada! yeah, that’s right, canada.
I’m steeling myself for an epic journey to bed, Bath and Beyond.
A shot of something corrosive, please…
CURRY STANDS? Those are for heathens!
and i’m a heathen through and through!
i’ll not be consigned to the lutefisk ghetto!
ICK! lutefisk! Those crazy Nords! I may have a curry this Sunday. I am exploring heathen tendencies on the Sabbath.
Mai Tai, please. Made in the traditional Trader Vic’s style.
I’m not yet done working here out west — but hell, I work at home. I’m gonna fire myself for drinking on the job?
Where are my ROCKS?!!
i’d give you rocks, if i had the stones.
I had 3 beers already, now going to red wine for a while.
What a friggin’ week.
I’ll have what SAP’s having, please.
Then, I will simply stare at you for about two minutes.
What a friggin’ week is right, Angelos — I had so much work to do that it interfered with my blog-reading.
Did someone say, wine?
OK — two minutes up.
OK SAP — get me summa that pussified wine.
Be careful, PD. You know what happens when you drink too much pussified wine. 🙂
Always the voice of reason, SAP — I consider myself duly warned.
More wine, wench!!
Anything is the something for me. Here’s to all of you!
And wait, your weeks are over on Friday? No fair.
Not mine, George, but I can dream, can’t I?
Uh oh. My keenly-developed senses tell me that soon there will be dancing.
r@d@r, but where’s the lefse? By the way, my father’s parents were from…..Norway. Hitler just loved us!
So, txrad, are you going to whip up some of that curried lutefisk?
Portly, I can give it a try and I do lurve a good Indian curry with a Nordic twist.
Phun Phact: The state of Arkansas entered the Union on June 15, 1836. Happy 171st to Arkansas, home of the last President who knew his arse from a hole in the ground! 😉
Just be sure to use white curry, so our scandihoovian ancestors don’t roll in their graves at the sign of color on the table.
I’ll drink to Arkansas! *raising glass*
Oh shit — I think I’ve already had too much of that pussified wine.
Uh oh. Better get security in here.
I am scrubbed, pumiced, and sparkling clean! Where’s the curried lutefisk? MMMMMM… SPICY LYE….
I also need more ROCKS!
Portly, I always pray to King Olaf before I retire for the evening.
Or was that King Ole.
Isn’t King Ole, Georgie?
OH NO! Someone’s at the DOOR! HIDE! It might be the NSA!
Oh c’mon Petulant — humor me (I’ll buy you unlimited rounds of aquavit if you do)
As long as I CAN HAVE ROCKS!
Ok, Who’s there?
My week isn’t necessarily over on Friday, as I do freelance work too, but Friday night I shut it down, 90% of the time. Otherwise, burnout would ensue. I will probably do about 10 hours of work over the weekend, but at $50 and $60 an hour, I won’t complain…
Tonight, though, Yanks-Mets and lots of alcohol are all that’s going on in this household.
I know one joke. What do you call a lesbian with two lovers?
*clink clink clink* [Rocks for petulant]
Come on — keep it up, you know the formula . . .
Mike Gravel Who? I forget how knock knock jokes function.
Oh fer fucks sake — wordpress blew my smilie!
So, what DO you call a lesbian with two lovers?
Petulant has had too many drinks because I have no freaking clue what that means.
I never could tell a joke right.
A Bush HAWG- southern spelling since I am in the south
*pouring your aqauvit*
*filling ice trays*
“Mike Gravel Who?
And thanks fer the lesbo joke — I’ll be filing it away. My favorite euphemism for lesbian is “She has dutch-boy fingers”.
I will be away for a bit making some of that lutfisk, lefse, curry homemade pizza.
Hey bartender, the jukebox just ate my Loonie.
It won’t accept Canadian coins? WTF is up with that?
Petulant is away babbling on the phone…
There it is. Fucking Word Press was pissing me off in the process.
“you are posting comments too quickly. Slow down.”
Fuck you, Word Press; I think quickly, speed the fuck up!
PortlyDyke has konagod syndrome.
kona — I noticed that!
So did everyone else, I’m sure!
I have Mississippi GODDAMN syndrome!
Did everything die?
At some point we all have to segue from the given to the inconceivable.
Mississippi GODDAMN! I have it too!
I vote for inconceivable.
A word to the wise, this thread has varying degrees of deathiness from week to week, and tonight might be one of those weeks in which normal folks have shit to do. And the rest of us have to entertain ourselves. So, without further ado, let’s get on with it.
I’ll be back after I assemble pizza toppings. It won’t be long because I tend to work fast now that the knives are put away. But I do need to find some new music, and some pot.
Well shit. Some pot was just handed to me. Therefore, I need to go find me a negro.
No, I’m here. Stepped out for food.
I think I might have some Lilac Wine
Enjoy that curried lutefisk pizza KONA!
Would you like some Nina with that Negro?
txrad is criticizing me because I put on Miles Davis’ Bitches Brewfor like 30 seconds and then had to put on the Doors’ Crystal Ship and he doesn’t understand the connection.
I guess that means I need to go shopping, because he said “I woulda picked something else.”
How was the food PD?
She’s a…. 20th Century Fox.
God damn I want the 60s back.
Petulent, Nina IS my Negro. But the problem is, the link took me away from here which is not a good thing. I need to stay anchored and focused. But I can always go get my Nina CD and do it the long way.
Food was brief but satisfying — just a snack before I go off to teach later. Good thing I only had virtual pussified wine. My head is clearing already.
I want SPATS back! and velvet smoking jackets. MMMM… Smoking…
Someday, when technology allows, I would LOVE to videotape an hour or two with the konagod and txrad on a Friday night.
The Doors are playing Whiskey Bar and we’ve lost our sun-dried tomatoes. The video would be fantabulous.
Come on baby, light my FIRE.
Try to set the night FYE YER.
Did someone say “smoking?”
Evening all, what should I have? Make sure it’s a strong one.
what is this “before I go off to teach later?
Are you saying, you have to go to work???
Be still, my beating heart.
Sorry, there’s cat vomit on my desk. I’m going to photograph it and blog it. Be back soon.
Sir Robin, may I suggest a slug of aquavit — it’s on me, and will go well with the curried lutefisk (well, at least it will wash the taste out of your mouth).
yes kona — I have a regular Friday night date with about 18 people. I must go forth and edumicate them!!
And all this time, you thought I was a hooker.
Hi everybody! Get me some water, I’m already nicely altered. How’s things?
Make sure it’s ice cold..and then give me a shot of the curried lutefish to wash that taste out of my mouth.
Moira! (()) How’s your week, doll?
I’m tired, sunburned and in here getting drunk instead of making dinner for the offspring.
They don’t mind, they are in day 12 of Buffy Fest 2007.
The week’s good now — it’s over and my cat is licking my hand. Do excuse my ignorance, but what’s (())?
Yay Buffy! I sure didn’t have a crush on Alyson Hannigan or something, nope. Not me, that was someone else, you can’t prove anything!
(()) = Hugs
Hope I wasn’t too forward. 😳
Iced dead leafy bits suspended in nonalcoholic liquid, please. With some sugar. 😉
*hugs!* Nooo, not too forward at all! I like hugs. 😀
iHola, Senors y Senoritas!
Evening, all! I want to drown my stress in something strong! I move in four days (so my apartment looks like a disaster zone), I haven’t worked on my thesis in weeks, and I’m way behind on my HIM/mary training.
Robin, an evening (or a few days) of Buffy is sounding pretty good right about now!
Cervesa, por favor….
*one aquavit over dry ice*
*one fresh spring water*
Hand licks from kitties (sigh) — my girl is pretty stand-offish that way — the only time she kisses me is at about 4 am — one really good, sandy swipe, usually on my third eye, and only when I am otherwise sleeping soundly.
She does give love-bites frequently, though.
*bier fer Phydeaux, iced lemon-ginger tea for JG, and . . . . aquavit for the scholar?*
Oh, and virtual smooches for all who are amenable!
evening puellasolis, How about a rusty nail?
Kona, in the interest of burying the hatchet (and no, not in your back), can I buy you a drink. I’ll be starting with a Kamakaze, myself.
And what’s this crap about ice trays? What kind of fookin’ pub doona have a fookin’ ice machine?!?!?!? You’d think we were in the UK!
I’M STARING AT YOU! (I’ve been wanting to say that ever since I wandered in here tonight.) Where am I?
My kitties are both lap whores. Especially when I’m trying to type.
Smooch bakatcha, Jack.
Mmm, lemon-ginger. Gracias, PD!
Virtual smooch accepted!
Boy, could I use it after this week! I’ve been through a bit of the ringer. Lots of intensity, including my mom’s 80th birthday, friends laid off without warning, and fat-phobia galore!
Mmm, I like biting too. Thank you for the water.
((Oh, I’m fickle, I am.))
Sounds delicious, Robin! And vaguely appropriate. 🙂 Thanks!
Kate217, ghost from my past. I knew there was something (and it seemed like it was in my back) that I just couldn’t deal with, or accept.
Let me buy you a drink.
Hey Liss, a shot of tequila for Kate!
OK, I’m showing off. It’s free here you know. Best deal in the fuckin’ town.
I’m very amenable JackGoff; it’s been while since I had a real one, virtual or otherwise. You do tongue?
Wait, are we in the UK?
Kate217 — there was an ice-machine when I got here, but then Mike Gravel came in and stared at it in a mesmerizing way, and it stomped out on it’s little aluminum legs.
I think it’s gone to join his campaign.
Moira, what’s yer poison. I could have kissed you for that response to r-whatever the troll this afternoon.
Phydeaux, my little mischief-maker was the same way, until he got big enough that he didn’t really fit comfortably on my lap anymore. Then he just hopped up, squirmed around for a bit, and let me type in peace.
We go chaste around here, kona, but for you, I’d make an exception. ;-P
And hey all! **SMMMMOOTCH!**
Kisses are nice too. Where was I smacking trolls around? I’m trying to remember who r-someone is, and I can’t.
Fookin’ Gravel! I have a passion for ice.
I don’t mind iceless drinks too much if it means I’m in the UK. Otherwise it just sucks (and not in a good way.)
Take your protein pills, and put your helmets on.
r-whatever was the thermodynamics trogolodyte in one of Kate’s threads.
chaste sucks while bowie’s playing.
And when the fuck did I miss a troll?
Oh shit, txrad has fiona in his bare litte hands. Must go take corrective action.
False alarm, it was MORE NEGROES! “Miles and Coltrane.”
The things I put up with.
The stars look very different today.
I did say there were exceptions.
r-whatever — ah yes, I remember it well. (I now consider this troll a perfect purgative.)
Oh, and Major Tom — guess it’s gonna be a long, long time — I’m off to teach.
I’ll be back later — hope some of you are still up and ready to bend some elbow. If I come in here and find a bunch of corpses, I’ll figure it was the lutefisk.
Got my protien pills, my helmet, and my towel…
FUCK! I just checked my fuel gauge, and although I filled up this afternoon about 6:04, (and it cost me a pretty penny) I’m running on empty. You all know what that means?
We’re either about to have silence or a total disaster!
But I didn’t have any of the lutefisk….
OK Kate — and given this thread, I think that you can also say, in a bona-fide way: “Thanks for all the fish!”
*waves* Bye, O Portly One! Drive safe.
Now it’s going to bother me. I totally can’t remember. And I like ranting about thermodynamics.
Later, PD! MWAH!
And ranting about thermodynamics isn’t nearly as fun as listening to a complete fool rant about it. Ahh, schadenfreude.
And yes, more Miles, or I kill you with Cute.
Thermodynamics totally deserves to be the subject of frequent and thorough ranting.
Think of me as the Fine Old Negro (FON) who shits his pants metaphorically at the sound of Miles.
Now there she is.
JackGoff, it looks like a young Tiger.
And ranting about thermodynamics isn’t nearly as fun as listening to a complete fool rant about it.
And yeah, I was talking about tdumb or whatever he called himself.
I think I need a beer too, whlie you’re in there.
Ranting is one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes I’m pretty okay at it. But I’m actually not hurting so much right now and I’m not sure I’d be at top ranting form just at this veriest moment.
I’ve got my own hell to raise.
Now THERE’S a line.
Sorry. My head exploded.
Try cleaning that off the walls.
Well, Moira, show me your stuff. Why don’t you let one loose, just for us neophytes?
Eeew, Robin! I hate trying to clean bone off the wall.
And I think Sir Robin just flatulenced me.
And I just kissed txrad and left him stumbling out of his easy chair.
And now he hums, incessantly, insanely.
I suppose I should be the mothafucka on brain detail…
I’m too stoned to rant just now. But I did rant about economics today. But that’s not the r-somebody rant, that was Hans Moleman.
Why Kona, I would never do such a thing.
Unless you are secretly Republican.
Then I will Fart in your general direction.
I do believe that he farted in your general direction…
I don’t think any self-respecting German would call ANY liquor a “charteusse.”
Tell that to the blonde bitch out on the patio today.
YOUR rant about ECONOMICS (the concept, not the reality) has me in fucking stiches.
Fugazi are here.
As the chartreusse mongoose told Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.
Chartreuse is ghastly stuff. All the nasty of absinthe and none of the wormwood. And I’m not bing bitchy right now! I like people too much.
Might have to go be Sith Lord Minh and melt some faces in a bit.
lost my t for a second.
I’ll be back – I gotta go give the offspring their worms.
*beams* Kona, you rogue, you. You’ll make me blush!
Moira, melt mine while you’re at it.
God, did he troll somewhere else?
I haven’t seen him anywhere but Pandagon, but he’s a really special individual. I’m sure he’s somewhere or ‘nother.
Moira points her hand at konagod and murmurs, “Mind Flay.”
Roy Hargrove just showed up with his instrument. And now I really gotta go. I know you all know the feeling of having a kitchen full of Negroes, especially when you’re on a budget.
Oh yeah, speyshul he is. He trolls Feministe too, as of recently.
Moira, here’s the post that I loved so much. It was well before mister calories in/calories out arrived:
But we have to make sure they know how fat they are, and that being fat makes them awful people. How will they know unless their doctors put them on strict, calorie-restricted diets? It’s not like we don’t have TV and magazines and movies and fashion designers and oh, everything to tell them.
Faaith just switched bodies with Buffy!!
The little tramp!!
And i mean that in the best possible way.
Does he? I’m unhappy with sam over there just now. Vile individual.
In the very near future I’ll tell you my views on “illegal” immigration, but in the meantime, I have CDs to put away as well as the cigarette butt I found beneath one.
This pub has taken on a rather sleazy atmosphere anyway.
I’m gonna go out for a quick masculine smoke, and then be on my fookin’ way.
Arghhh- I’m up to my elbows in chicken soup, sick kid and snot.
Can I get a vodka rocks with a side of vodka rocks?
Oh, that one. Yeah, I’m really tired of people shaming children for normal behavior.
That trs87 dude was seriously NOT GONNA LISTEN to what anybody had to say…. Hey, you think maybe he was Dubya incognito?
you divine blessed one!
You can have any vodka in the house.
Much thanks Kona darling. The kid doesn’t get sick much, but it figures he would get sick on a Friday night instead of a Monday morning
Kate217 has me holding a half-smoked cigartte that hasn’t seen the light of flame in like 18 minutes, like I’m waiting to light it.
Wait, I was. And I think I need to eat.
And would someone PLEASE turn off THAT FUCKING JAZZ!
I knew that was going to be a wild ride, but wait, now I have to fulfil reality.
Smoke some for me
And what this party needs is some Le Tigre!
What you talkin”bout, Kona? I don’t smoke…
Poor wee bairn. Too young for NyQuil.
Here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna smoke a fag, mop some vomit, and sleep.
Not necessarily in that exact order.
Le Tigre! Isn’t that what I covered in my “Shaved Pussy” post this afternoon?
Huhmmmm- Nyquil- tempting but maybe a bit too young. He’s hitting the bottle of robitussin like an old pro though
Somebody put in Dead City Radio for konadeity when he gets back.
I haven;t read the shaved pussy post- but that seems like a horrible thing to do to a cat 😉
Just make sure to mop before sleep.
txrad just declared it “urination and sleep night.”
I wasn’t really really, but I suppose I shall comply.
Someone SHUT THAT FUCKING JAZZ OFF, AND THIS TIME I FUCKIN’ MEAN IT!!
Ah Kona, your pussies are adorable. It should drive traffic up too- I get tons of people looking for wet panties and Nancy Pelosy’s tits
I think JazzOff and JackOff should be intwined in a poem.
Well, yours aren’t nothin’ to sneer at I’m sure.
I got yer antidote right here, Kona:
Azeroth needs me, O my sisters and only friends. So I fear I must bid you adieu. Drink hearty!
intwined? Like JJaazczkOOffff?
‘Night Moira! Sweet dreamzies!
I’m gonna go now, but tomorrow night, can we get back to the viciousness instead of all the deep-tissue massaging? I’m wanting to be a ring master.
Doesn’t matter really. I’ll be back tomorrow night regardless. Because, for no other reason than, I got something to say. Always.
Blue Gal, those 3 drum beats had me hitting the OFF button so fast, I’m surprised I have such reflexes. I’ll have to come back to it when I regain my composure.
Anybody got a fan in this fuckin’ joint?
Hey Jack! Hey all. You pourin’ tonight, Jack?
Give me my virtual usual though actually drinkin cold decaf.
Only here for a while.
Robitussin, gak. I had serious respiratory issues as a kid (think living with a father and grandmother who both chain smoked might have had something to do with that?).
Anyway, I can no longer stand anything razzberry. Chambord is right out. (Hey, the bottle even looks like the holy handgrenade of Antioch.
I suppose that I’d best get home and pay some attention to the furkids so that they don’t kill me in my sleep. Have a great weekend all. Hugs and kisses all ’round.
That’s not jazz I hear in the kitchen is it?
GOD DAMN YES IT IS!!
TURN IT THE FUCK OFF!
Do you need to act so fuckin’ suave?
Stop it with the decaf. Pour her a kona special.
Blue Gal caught me in her spidery web. Bitch.. Super Freak indeed.
Spoiled my whole jazz mellowness.
I have to bribe him with his favorite tea normally to get him to take the robitussin, but he feels so crappy right now he asked to take it.
Anyone want some homemade chicken soup- I have a cafeteria sized vat of it brewing
Hey, BG! One virtuous, uhhhh, virtual usual! ;-P
Mmmm, homemade chicken soup…
Speaking of food, Good Eats is on! I loves me some Alton Brown. 😀
Got any gum?
Blackjack or doublemint, Tata?
OK — I’m back.
Sorry to hear about your snotty kid, Red Queen. Kid-sickness sucks.
My boys got chicken-pox consecutively — you know — just as one was ending the ten-day quarantine, the other one entered it. We had twenty days of movies, special meals, and much, much mama-angst on my part.
Would someone please pour me a pint of the best ale?
Oh. It’s just me.
I shall sillyloquey, then.
“Oh, lack-a-may! He’s dead, this piece of meat!
No more to lie beneath the stain-ed sheet! No happy! No more!”
Oh Fer Dad’s Sake! I really DO have kona syndrome.
*sneaking behind the bar to tap my own ale*
Is this place still open?
You want a soliloquy? I’ll give you a fuckin’ soliloquy!!! Hardest goddamn lines I ever had to learn. “The Bald Soprano” by Iansecso, I played the Fire Chief.
FIRE CHIEF: “The Head cold.” My brother-in law had, on the paternal side, a first cousin whose maternal uncle had a father-in-law whose paternal grandfather had married as his second wife a young native whose brother he had met on one of his travels, a girl of whom he was enamored and by whom he had a son who married an intrepid lady pharmacist who was none other than the niece of an unknown fourth-class petty officer of the Royal Navy and whose adopted father had an aunt who spoke Spanish fluently and who was, perhaps, one of the granddaughters of an engineer who died young, himself the grandson of the owner of a vineyard which produced mediocre wine, but who had a second cousin, a stay-at-home, a sergeant-major, whose son had married a very pretty young woman, a divorcee, whose first husband was the son of a loyal patriot who, in the hope of making his fortune, had managed to bring up one of his daughters so that she could marry a footman who had known Rothschild, and whose brother, after having changed his trade several times, married and had a daughter whose stunted great-grandfather wore spectacles which had been given him by a cousin of his, the brother-in-law of a man from Portugal, natural son of a miller, not too badly off, whose foster-brother had married the daughter of a former country doctor, who was himself a foster-brother of the son of a forrester, himself the natural son of another country doctor, married three times in a row, whose third wife… was the daughter of the best midwife in the region and who, early left a widow… Had married a glazier who was full of life and who had had, by the daughter of a station master, a child who had burned his bridges… And had married an oyster woman, whose father had a brother, mayor of a small town, who had taken as his wife a blonde schoolteacher, whose cousin, a fly fisher-man… Had married another blonde schoolteacher, named Marie, too, whose brother was married to another Marie, also a blonde schoolteacher… And whose father had been reared in Canada by an old woman who was the niece of a priest whose grandmother, occasionally in the winter, like everyone else, caught a cold.
OMG Fido! I adore you! I was just looking at my copy of the Bald Soprano yesterday!
So yes, now I can definitely say that things happen that I cannot explain.
Have a brew on me.
A silly-loguezing psychic dog. It’s a miracle!
Okay — now how about that staring contest?
I are incredible! Thanks fer the beer!
Up stares or down stares?
How you make that smiley?
“Up stares or down stares?
OOOOOO — bow wow to you, sir!
I’d settle for “all around the town” 🙂
“8” “-” “O”
Remove spaces and quotes — it’s an OH, not a zero.
r@d@r, but where’s the lefse? By the way, my father’s parents were from…..Norway. Hitler just loved us!
They certainly did. So much so that Deacon Dipshit and the boys have now approved the methods they used to get “Information” out of the Norwegian folks for our lads in the CIA to use. And for which we hanged them. My father in law was working in Oslo when the “Good Krauts” arrived and because he didn’t follow the rules and let the locals starve to death, (He was a butcher.) he was forced to flee in something of a hurry. Rode underneath a train all the way to Copenhagen in mid winter and during the ride a chunk of ice was thrown up from the wheel and hit him in the forehead which left a large dent for the rest of his life. He DID NOT CARE FOR GERMANS! from that time on.
I’m starting over.
You know, that wasn’t the longest monologue I’ve ever had to learn, but it just don’t make no sense!!!
*handing GOM some lefse and a bowl of curried lutefisk, while not looking away from Phydeaux*
Well, it’s ianesco — I’m not sure making sense was so high on the priority list.
What’s that over in the corner, PD?
Don’t you try it, you cagey thing!
Are you ticklish, PS?
Yeah, I know. But Sweet Mama Shakes, Mother o’ QCoFM, it was hard to get all the way through it!
Actually, the reason I stumbled on Bald Soprano is because I was digging through short-story books after yesterday’s QOD.
Have you seen that commercial with the schoolkids tele-learning (or wev they’re doing) and the two get in the staring contect via the teevee?
No, haven’t seen that one! Do your 8’s hurt?
Did the Bald Soprano (no, not in that way!) back in college. My girlfriend directed it for her Directing (duh) class.
FUCK!!!!!! I lose.
Did I just win?
I did the BS in college. Yes, I graduated with a degree in theater. The short story I cited yesterday “The Photographs” (Barthelme) was one that I performed in an oral interp class.
It’s okay PS, I’ll split the prize with you . . . . there is a prize, isn’t there?
Or do we just get to throw a big rock in the lake?
I hain’t never gradumated. The real world, ya know bills and shit, always get in the way. Not to mention required courses that have no bearing on anything I ever want to do or experience in my life.
If you follow that vid to YouTube, there’s another one he did that’s seven minutes of a campfire burning. Hey, maybe Ianesco’s ghost was involved in the making of the vids!!
Well, you missed nothing by not graduating — most employers thought a degree in theater was laughable, and most theater people thought a degree in theater was laughable. I guess that’s what makes me so funny.
*bathing eyes in beer*
Hey, maybe Ianesco’s ghost was involved in the making of the vids!!
Yeah, or Sam Beckett.
“Waiting for Gravel”? Makes as much sense as anything else….
You are fucking cracking me up!
Yes, “Waiting for Gravel” — I think this needs to be the next project after “Shakesville, the Musical”
So, how are your vehicle woes?
Just realized I’ve been spelling the playwright’s name wrong. Hope he doesn’t get Gravel to lob a rock at me!
I’ve got the parts, finally, but now I have to figure out the replacement without fuckin’ up something else!
Hey, you must’ve read my post!
Yeah, I’ve been keeping up on you a bit 🙂
Speaking of posts, when you gonna write another?
I can totally relate to the situation — right now, I’m doing OK financially, but it’s been a pretty squeaky year so far with cash-flow. I feel very rich, actually, but other people can’t believe how close to the wire I live sometimes — ‘specially my mom, who worries that I won’t have a “retirement fund” (HA!HA!)
Glad to hear it! I’m about to reach my 1000th hit (which is nothing to some people, but it’s cool to me!
My parents are the same. I’ll just keep on, and – like always – it’ll get done.
I’ll be writing soon. This week kind of bit me in the ass in terms of intensity — some friends in need and crisis, lots o’ focus on work, and the fucking weather here has been kicking my ass in terms of my energy-level. One day beautiful, the next day wild and wet. Barometric pressure shifts seem to do something weird to my creative brain.
Any suggestions from “posts from the Portly Dyke”?
“Glad to hear it!” referred to you ‘keeping up’, not your later comment. 🙂
Totally got that — like I said on the blog — the maelstrom of cross-posts. 🙂
My mom’s turning 80 this week, and I decided not to go home for her celebration — partly financial, partly not wanting to hang out with some of my in-laws (who think I’m burning in hell). Instead, I’m giving her a different sort of birthday present — a letter a week, in my own hand, sent by snail mail — kinda old-fashioned, but she seemed thrilled.
Wow… I can relate to the Portly part (btw, love the double entendre – I assume it’s intentional?) but I’m afraid this old dog don’t know much about the Dyke aspects (having never been to Holland). So, whatever knots yer knickers, rant on!!
Oh — and I love yer beard, BTW — is that really yours?
Every gray hair of it!! Although I have trimmed it a bit for summer.
Your hirsutia is most impressive, imhfo.
I’ll send some vehicle-fixin’ and prosperity-increasin’ vibes your way, if it’s all the same to you.
I’m gonna head for bed soon.
Kisses and hugs accepted?
Kisses and Hugs always accepted, AND reciprocated.
I need to toddle off to bed, too….
And thanks fer the vibes!
((((((Phydeaux Speaks)))))) and a big *SMOOCH* to you and your kitties, chicks, et al.
And, just cuz I won the starin’ contest, and had a few too many brewskies . . .
((((((any and all lurkers))))))
See Ya, PortlyDyke!
And a G’night to all Shakers and lurkers!
handing GOM some lefse and a bowl of curried lutefisk, while not looking away from Phydeaux*
Thanks but no thanks luv. Went off that when I was a kid and was invited to Christmas dinner at a school friend of Norwegian extractions house and when I got there I was afraid to knock on the door, (No doorbells where I grew up. Didn’t go in for that modern shit.) because I thought someone inside had fucking died. Then try and sit there and eat the stuff….UGH…………Hell, I would have eaten Santa’s fucking beard first.
Ran into the same sort of thing up in the Alietian Islands once. Only there they bury the salmon in the ground in a sort of swampy area and when it is nice and “ripe” they dig it up and eat it. And I was invited to dinner because they knew I was a halfbreed Siwash a long way from home and must have been missing the stuff. So I had to eat it. (Don’t know if the Aleuts are of the scalping side of our culture but I was not willing to risk finding out either.)
And actually it wasn’t all that bad as long as you avoided breathing in when it approached the mouth cavity.
*wobbles back in* Hiya! Wat’r please. 🙂
St. Lutefisk: [surveying surroundings] Well, Lefse-Boy, our work here is done! We have driven all these poor miscreant souls forth from this den of drunken iniquity!
Lefse-Boy: Okay Lutie — let’s go — Up! Up! And Oy-Vey!!
St. Lutefisk: [grabbing Lefse-boy by the cape] No — a thousand times no, my flattened sidekick! No one must ever know the secret connection between lutefisk and gefilte-fish!!
Lefse-Boy: Sorry. 😯
Alas, too late. No virtual love for me. G’night!
Ow. Fuckin’ gravity.
Well it appears I was fairly well behaved last night. Will wonders never cease? I wasn’t sure since I barely remember a damn thing after polishing off most of the Cabrito on an empty stomach. I did eat pizza but I was alrerady past the point of know return. (My apologies to Kansas for borrowing that.)
What time is happy hour tonight?
Kona, anytime you’re around is happy hour, deary. I’m interested in lazing about right now, and I might later, after this classwork stops slamming my ass up against the wall. Who ever heard of a weekend class? The god(desses) must be crazy.
Look to the hands on the wall
well, kona is in prime form again, Jackoff.
Time Hardly Ticking Away
My God, college never slammed my ass up against the wall. If I knew then what I know now.
I stopped it while it was still rolling on its knife edge.
Is it ready?
No, we’re not quite ready.
Well damn, I was ready.
Throw It All Away.
Brandi Carlile is exquisetely here. I’m not sure I spelled that right, but what the hell, it’s been a HARD week. Where am I supposed to put the discreet blogwhoring link so as not to be quite so inconspicuous.
Did I spell that one wrong too?
I have some cross-posting to do. I’m sure I’ll be back.
When there are more people present.
Conceptualization? Did txrad rad just use the term “concerptualization” with me?
What the fuck is he talking about???
There are many chains to pull, and so little time, but sometimes you just get tired of yankin.
The chain will keep us together, mate.
It’s been a long time coming, it’s gonna be a long time gone.
Ally Sheedy would fuckin’ LOVe this.
let me be your TURBO LOVER!!
as we shift over time?
Did Rob say “as we shift over time?”
Let me rethink.
YES! Sign me the fuck up.
Anyway I’m sayin’ this girl is a fucking freak.
She just nots.
I only speak of the lovely Miss Fiona Apple.
Meet her greet her bow down before her and wish for the best you ever hoped for.
And then drink a shot or two and say “fuck it.”
What does THAT bitch know?
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