I must confess I write through something of a hangover. Indeed, a hangover on a scale that makes a vintage-retro STD warning poster seemed almost apt, although, of course, my downfall was a matter of alcohol rather than sex, and the linkage between public reading and Patron tequila, and then a later switch to Jack Daniels. I only consol myself that, at my formidably advanced age, such behavior is a rarity and not a daily occurrence.
The secret word is Damned
Levi Stubbs – RIP
Rudy Ray Moore – RIP
I may be joining you.
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10 comments:
Oh for goodness sake. Michael.
Take your Alka Seltzer and go back to bed.
More sleep. You should have gotten laid. (In my opinion)
Well. If I lived a little nearer the city of angels, I believe I may well have come to the reading.
Thankfully, I do not even fantasize about walking on water; an Atlantic crossing would be a bitch this time of year anyway.
Nice to know you finished the evening in good style.
The word verification, quite bizarrely, is "acted'.
you and 00soul -- carousing!! tsk, tsk. while the cat's away, the mice will play, indeed.
"coffee beans stole my blue jeans" - coughed the loud bard Boetius in his springtime bed.
Rudy Ray Moore may you forever ride the dark angelic xmas light sparkled path to supernautic funk-a-land.
word verification (swear on my chihuaha's 9 breasts):
MUTACTIO
I'm thinking we could probably do with one of those "I'm still alive" type of posts...
& probably some tacos, yeah, tacos sound good.
Tacos. Mmmmm, tacos.
And the word verification reads it reads fings.
I was spooked there. Fings ain't what they used to be.
Dead fings don't talk
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