Friday, November 09, 2001
9 years today. Doesn't feel like 9. That's damn near a decade. I don't remember what life was like before that, although I seem to remember a lot of loneliness, angst and despair. I don't feel that way anymore. For 9 years I have had a best friend with me always. A best friend with soft hands and great boobs, a wicked wit and warm smile. Who laughs at me and helps me laugh at myself. I'm one lucky goober. Do any of you readers remember this day nine years ago? I bet you do Skids. Bubble the bottle of Jack in the freezer once for us. How about you D-man? You ended up the impromptu photographer. If I were to do it again, or do it right, you'd be in a monkey suit too. I've worn two with you already. :) And Jon, do you still have that sweater vest, fresh from work at On Cue, the only person in the audience. You'd be in a tux too nowadays. Maybe it wasn't the best planned wedding of all time, but it seems to have worked out OK. You guys, and others, are an important part of that. Thanks.
Tuesday, November 06, 2001
I got LINKED! By a 6'5" redheaded Amazon Sex Goddes. Just because I, well, sang is a pretty generous word for it, but, sent a .wav file anyway to Jodi. She's a friend of my sister and I read her blog and she was feeling a little down about relationships and stuff so, I sang her "someday my prince will come" in my own very special way. You can well imagine. She thought it was funny, and just for that she linked me and now I'm all proud and stuff.
Monday, November 05, 2001
M-A-S - 'es I have a penis!
C-U-L - 'ell of a thing to have!
I-N-I-T-Y.....
There is something to be said for walking into a building at 8am with a hammer and pipe wrench and other implements of destruction, and walking out at 9pm covered with dirt and grime. Leaving behind a pile of neatly stacked pipes that had once been connected to cast iron radiators. The radiators are all disconnected and stacked to the side, covered with dropcloths. Very heavy sarcophogi. The house has been nearly stripped of plaster and lathe. It's dirty work, but very satisfying. I think there should be places where people can go just to bust shit up. What a wonderful form of therapy! "Here's your hammer and crowbar, your session will be in room 5." Sure it's phallic and maybe it's just male, although my wife enjoyed it as much as I did, but I think destruction therapy may be just the thing.
C-U-L - 'ell of a thing to have!
I-N-I-T-Y.....
There is something to be said for walking into a building at 8am with a hammer and pipe wrench and other implements of destruction, and walking out at 9pm covered with dirt and grime. Leaving behind a pile of neatly stacked pipes that had once been connected to cast iron radiators. The radiators are all disconnected and stacked to the side, covered with dropcloths. Very heavy sarcophogi. The house has been nearly stripped of plaster and lathe. It's dirty work, but very satisfying. I think there should be places where people can go just to bust shit up. What a wonderful form of therapy! "Here's your hammer and crowbar, your session will be in room 5." Sure it's phallic and maybe it's just male, although my wife enjoyed it as much as I did, but I think destruction therapy may be just the thing.
