Happy Birthday, Aunt Laura!

What is it with everybody? They're having birthdays practically every year these days!


So here's a happy birthday greeting for my aunt down in Key West.

She's very cool, because:
1. She laughs like a pirate
2. She can sail around the world
3. She lets me play with her chihuahua
4. She is a lot of fun at Fantasy Fest and doesn't mind too much when I get feathers everywhere
5. She is kind to animals and small children


Many people don't know this, but she also used to have a rather adventurous taste in food...


Back when I was in middle school she would frequently visit the house, bringing us little gifts like pet turtles and things. I was washing dishes in the kitchen one day, and she started rummaging around in the refrigerator. She poked around a bit, tasting a few things, and generally asking me how the day had gone. As I rinsed a few odds and ends, she said "*L, I don't mean to insult your mother's cooking, but this is terrible!"

I had an awful sinking feeling in my stomach, because I realized immediately what had happened. However, I can generally remain quite calm in a crisis. "You might want to rinse your mouth out", I told her.

"Why...?", she asked, with a horrified look slowly covering her face. The container and wrapper dangled loosely from her fingertips.

"You just ate gourmet turtle food", I told her, as hordes of short people danced around the kitchen screaming "Aunt Laura's eating turtle food! Aunt Laura's eating turtle food! Ha ha ha ha!"

As she ran over to the sink and frantically chugged gallons of water, I read the label out loud to her: "Puréed mealworms, crickets, earthworms, cockroaches, grubs and beetles fortified with calcium, vitamins, fiber and essential nutrients" (or something ilke that)

Years later, she would still poke gingerly at anything even remotely resembling food in our kitchen, asking in a timid voice "Is this all right? I think it's all right, but I just wanted to make sure.... Are you sure it's okay to eat?"

"Yes, it's an apple" we'd say.





*Not really my name

Volunteering My Services

I'm a highly sheltered, goody-two-shoes, bleeding heart crybaby so I thought it might be a good idea to fill out a volunteer form for the Red Cross.

While I had exciting visions of rolling bandages, completing daring helicoptor rescues, and soothing the fevered brow of exhausted young firefighters and floodworkers, I realize that in reality they will probably just ask me to box bottled water or do light office work.

They asked if I knew C.P.R.
No
They asked if I could drive a forklift or tractor trailer
No
They asked if I had any medical training
No
They asked me if I spoke another language fluently
No
They asked me if I knew how to do anything even remotely useful.
I said I could write with my toes

So, I also decided to donate just in case. If you are interested in donating towards hurricane relief, go to the RedCross.org site.

Getting a ham radio operator's license sounded interesting, though. Maybe I'll look into that.

Happy Birthday, JPR!

Here's a little birthday post for one of my favorite "little" brothers: JPR

We had some really good times growing up

I should probably apologize for:
1. Calling him "curly-locks" to make him cry
2. Hogging the matchbox cars and Star Wars action figures
3. Making a hole in his door
4. Telling on him
5. Trying to push him out of photos when he was a baby
6. Coloring on his bedsheets and trying to blame him for it
7. Sticking my lima beans on his plate when he wasn't looking
8. Laughing when he was caught and I wasn't
9. Putting soap on his toothbrush
10. Playing "Pharmacy" by mixing a bunch of old medications together in a bowl and trying to convince him to drink it.

But we had some good times too:
1. Going camping and looking for cool rocks
2. Playing "King and Queen": making elaborate thrones out of cardboard bricks, dressing up and giving each other royal commands
3. Playing "Indians": sitting on the backyard shuffleboard court and crushing seeds from the bottlebrush tree to make Indian acorn bread
4. Playing "Funeral": burying all the dead bugs we could find, giving them names, having little funeral processions and designing little tombstones for them
5. Making tents out of all the clean towels and sheets in the house until Mom yelled at us
6. Climbing trees and eating oranges until we were full
7. Sneaking through the neighborhood making maps of everyone's backyards
8. Riding bicycles and racing each other around that cranky old man's circle driveway
9. Going to Farrell's and Larry's Ice Cream Parlor
10. Catching blue crabs with raw chicken and running away screaming when they escaped from the bucket.

Happy Birthday!

Live From the Dating Scene

Some people say I'm a glutton for punishment; others say that I simply cannot learn from my mistakes. Regardless, I actually went on a date this weekend.

According to this old ad:

'"Pick-up" acquaintances often take girls autoriding, to cafes, and to theatres with the intention of leading them into sex relations. Disease or child-birth may follow. Avoid the man who tries to take liberties with you. He is selfishly thoughtless and inconsiderate of you. Believe no one who says it is necessary to indulge sex desire'

Good thing I saw this after the date and not before. I had absolutely NO idea that my maidenly temple could be violated in such a sacrilegious manner. And of course, one should avoid Diseases like childbirth whenever humanly possible, so I shall have to avoid movie theatres and cafes in the forseeable future.

My chance acquaintance was very nice, although a Young Republican. I said I'd heard rumors that at Young Republican meetings they sit around, light candles and chant sacred hymns to Ronald Reagan. He didn't deny it.

However, the food was delicious, so I may possibly go out again.

"Men Are Smarter" Says Study Written By Men For Men

As seen before, this blog is occasionally dedicated to bringing news of up-to-the-minute scientific discoveries to our audience. Today is no exception, and we are proud to inform you of the very latest in scientific breakthroughs: a study that finally proves men are smarter than women.

The study has been lauded by many men, who now have scientific proof of women's inability to understand the finer subtleties of fart jokes and carburetors, beer chugging and shooting at stop signs. And it finally explains why women are always the ones who need to ask for directions.

It has long been a myth that a person's environment and upbringing has something to do with I.Q., but, in fact, cultural factors such as the gender-specific socializing of girls has absolutely nothing to do with it, according to some male researchers such as Dr. Gunther Arschloch. "The idea that women are strongly socialized to believe intelligence is unfeminine, that they are subtly discouraged from advanced educational opportunities -- these are all old wive's tales, if you'll pardon the expression", he said. "Men are just smarter, because we say so."

Dr. Robert Genitalien, another male researcher, agreed. "Men have always known that the larger the breast size, the lower the I.Q., but now we have shown that just having breasts will doom a person to a lifetime of confusion and ineptitude. Based on these results, we are postulating that the act of menstruating may actually cause a person to lose millions of brain cells, but it could also have something to do with having the cooties."

"The idea that different types of intelligence may exist, the idea that men can sometimes be biased -- these are just hysterical rantings", he stated. "The fact is that we're a billion times smarter than women... or even a trillion times smarter.... in fact, we're smarter to infinity!!"

"After all", added Dr. Arschloh, "two heads are always better than one."

I Decide to Become a Rabid Football Fan

As I had several spare hours this week, I decided to throw all caution to the wind and investigate this mysterious phenomenon called "football".

My old friend Kosh (a.k.a., Ms. Beaverhausen) undertook the finer points of my education, tsk tsking quite frequently over my apparently alarming ignorance.

Attire
One must dress in team colors from head to toe, and face paint is frequently used to add a certain je ne sais quois to any dedicated fan. Also undescribable in their unique design are the logo-emblazoned accessories available at kiosks standing every five feet or so. For women, team logo earrings are de rigueur, as well as logo hair scrunchies and logo purses. Women may also wear team logo bandanas, but only if they are worn as microscopic tube tops paired with hot pants. For men, an oversized team jersy is a must, as well as a very large cup of Budweiser; if a team jersey is unavailable, the pregnant look is also very popular. For the very adventurous, a pirate costume will never go out of style.

Parking
I discovered that fans are not allowed to park less than five miles from the stadium unless they are driving A.) a Hummer, B.) an oversized pickup truck, C.) an Incredibly Large SUV, or D.) a Recreational Vehicle covered in Buccaneer flags. This restriction may occasionally be circumvented by crying or offering bribes to the uncheerful parking attendant, who will force you to park in a giant mud pit.

Tailgating
As this was my first lesson, it was decided that my initial foray into this mysterious art would be quite basic: we sipped a nicely chilled wine from glasses emblazoned with the Buccaneer team logo and nibbled delicately on fresh fruit, an array of charming cheeses, prosciutto, antipasto, crackers and roasted portabello mushrooms. Generally, one nibbles on fresh lobster or steak and champagne, but pre-season games are just a teensy bit more casual. Although it is considered more traditional to dine on burgers, it is also slightly less "fashion-forward".

Pre-Game Display
A gigantically rippling American flag was toted onto the field by hundreds of volunteers as thousands of fans hummed the National Anthem off-key. An equally gigantic Tampa Bay Buccaneers flag was also dragged onto the field, and all the players flitted merrily through a grunting gauntlet of their fellow players. It was really quite festive.

The Game
While much pre-game posturing was undertaken to symbolize centuries of raping and pillaging, the players were quite smoothly organized and strategic in their play. As soon as someone touched the ball, all play halted and a committee meeting was immediately held to discuss the matter. Frequently, someone would shove the ball at someone else, and then they would hold another committee meeting to discuss that. If someone tackled someone else, then they would hold a committee meeting to mull that one over as well. From what Kosh told me, there was a lot of snappng and sacking going on with all the linebacks, quarterbacks, halfbacks, defensive backs, offensive backs and bad backs-- but it mainly seemed to be a lot of committee meetings. However, one could tell that these were quite strategic, as there was quite a bit of thoughtful ball scratching and butt patting going on.

Halftime During halftime (did you know that football has absolutely no innings?), all the cheerleaders started romping on the field, doing the latest pole dances and blinding fans with their big white teeth and glittery pom poms. Later, the Association For the Future Bimbos of America (composed mainly of five year olds) joined them in a rousing, gyrating rendition of "I Want Your Candy".




*** Tips For the New Tampa Bay Buccaneers Fan ***
1. Don't be too disappointed at the absence of fist fights among the stands. While these are generally acknowledged to be the most exciting part of any game, they are frequently absent from pre-season games, as well as games lacking intense rivalries..

2. Don't joke too loudly about the stadium being so pink due to the red bleacher seats being bleached by the sun. People are very sensitive about football's homoeroticism.

3. When the National Anthem is sung, hum along patriotically and wave your Budweiser in the air. It is considered quite festive to splash the other fans.

4. Scream obscenities at the opposing team and the referee whenever possible.

5. All litter must be left on the stadium floor and seats.

the Return of Search Engine Theatre: How Do People Get Here?

rabid alligators
"is the country still here?"
"robot monster" + "poignant"
shapeshifting reptilian
unusual wasp waist corset
stripper doll heaven
amish midgets
how to tell a alcoholic house by clutter
what to do if you have a drug addict neighbor
how to kiss someone with germ phobia
pies+fetishes
how sea cucumbers vomit their insides
scrotums, huge,photos
"all artists must suffer"
mermaid catfight
"llamas" + "phallic" symbol?
death of a disco dancer + pope
pics of playboy bunny sparkly ones
ramula cyst
start your own cult
enamored horseman of plateau
when did barry manilow file bankruptcy
art exhibitions in the laundry
"The History of Brothels"
ear trumpet
woman cyclops florida
trample pony play human furniture
"what if cats and dogs had opposable thumbs"
Constipated Turgid Erotic Show
the red outfit Olivia was wearing in the Candy Shop video
hitchhikers guide galaxy mouse trainer bath attendant
newlyweditis
nutshell murder rooms
i am sorry and short love letters
political me
louis carroll logic riddles
"Tell A Lie Day"
"buy me underwear"
"modulating radio carrier wave"
Nancy Spungen burial site

Nothing Says "Haute" Like a Florida Summer

To-day the temperature is 95 degrees Fahrenheit with 55% humidity.

I may have to wander around in a chic bathing suit and pour buckets of ice water on myself for the remainder of the afternoon.

The grass is wilting; I'm wilting; even the palmetto bugs and fire ants are passing out from exhaustion.

***************************

Last night my uncle and his boyfriend treated me to champagne and dinner at Pacific Wave, a "Pacific Rim fusion" restaurant that has reasonably awful service, sputtering outdoor tiki torches, and a horrible lack of good parking. However, the terribly rude hostess was overshadowed by memories of their lovely Krakatoa lava cake, from which oozes incredibly rich, dark chocolate in all its wholesome, chocolate-y goodness.

They later came by to ogle my newish apartment, but promptly informed me that it had some very bad feng shui. This, of course, explains my entire summer. I am now convinced that my mojo has not been working, solely due to the fact that my sofa was unhappy with its prior situation.

So now all my furniture is in a completely different location than it was before, because, really, gay men cannot go anywhere without wanting to constantly rearrange the furniture and things.

I have to say that it really looks quite smart.

So even if I die from sunstroke today, at least my apartment is so much more fashionably fabulous than it was before.

Languishing In Utter Exhaustion....

I have been a very bad blogger lately.


I either haven't posted, or have posted in a terribly lame and unfashionable manner.

This is mainly due to work, partially due to laziness, and possibly due to mental exhaustion from the after-effects of an ex-friendship.

This weekend we shall make it a point to return to our regularly scheduled programming.

"Because Everything in Her Home Is Waterproof, the Housewife of 2000 Can Do Her Daily Cleaning With a Hose"

These modern scientists really need to get on the ball. I can't clean anything with a hose in my apartment, and they promised that sort of thing back in 1956!

I mean really! Must we waste all the good technology on cures for cancer?


The dinner party was fabulous, blah blah blah.

The food was fabulous, blah blah blah.

However, I am currently unable to discover peace and self-fulfillment while cleaning. Perhaps I need a lobotomy.


***********************************
Other Benefits of a Lobotomy:

1. Job Satisfaction

2. A constantly perky smile

3. An ability to watch Dubya make a televised speech without wanting to squish his tiny head

4. The ability to discuss lawns and sports scores ad nauseum

5. A permanently cheerful outlook

6. A fulfilling career as a Playboy Bunny

7. An uncanny talent for doublespeak

8. Producing Reality television

9. Always being able to color inside the lines

10. Mariah Carey


Excuse me please; I need to go vacuum the floor, and I am cranky.

A Charming Weekend, During Which I Join The Forces Of Darkness

This weekend was lovely, charming, and, of course, quite fashionable.

I ate yummy tidbits at Cafe Dufrain, extensively admired the bullet holes in Chad and Cynthia's windows, then wore my third favorite hat to attend Chad's graduation at the University of South Florida.

As it is required by federal law, the university had recruited the most deadly dull speakers they could find-- which meant that some of us were able to have very convenient naps, interrupted only by the airhorn-toting mullet people who attend every graduation in the United States. Luckily, it only lasted about two hours instead of the usual ten.

Afterwards, we ate semi-delicious Italian food, and I solidified my allegience to the forces of darkness...

My friend Chad has an unemployed relative who treats him quite horribly, freeloads off her parents, sponges off her boyfriend, and tries her best to snub Chad and his wife whenever possible (unless a free meal is involved). She also "accidentally" neglects to tell them when the family cancels or moves events, and is abominably rude at all times. In fact, she didn't even bother to attend the graduation, only the dinner for which Chad and Cynthia paid.

So I sat in front of her, introduced myself, smiled extensively and made quite charming conversation: "So, what do you do?" (I knew she's unemployed and doesn't bother looking); "Oh, did you go to U.S.F. too?" (I knew she flunked out of two schools); "Oh, I just love your hair extensions! I've been thinking of getting them myself!"

Then I flirted with her boyfriend, who ignored her for the rest of the meal. Ha ha ha!

*****************************************

To-day I am I cooking an absolutely Evil dinner full of butter, wine, garlic, eggs, sugar, and other things that are terribly bad for you. It's to celebrate Chad's graduation and Cynthia's birthday*

* I swear, this isn't turning into a food blog; I've just been cooking a lot lately

Menu**
1. A new version of my orange zest bundt cake (6 eggs, 3 sticks of butter, and almost 3 cups of sugar!) with oodles of fresh berries
2. Yet another lovely salad
3. Fresh French bread
4. Baked lamb with roasted garlic and red wine sauce, carrots, celery and onions
5. Cynthia's mother's Waldorf salad
6. Champagne!

**recipes available upon request

**************

Now that I am acting and cooking in a completely Evil manner, should I start wearing more black? It seems far too hot to be wearing a glamorous cape of any sort, but I could cultivate a vicious cackle, if necessary. However, I really need to work on an Evil plan for World Domination.

I am willing to take applications for Evil henchmen (or women), if anyone feels they have the proper qualifications. I will need the appropriate information, of course: i.e., the name of your lair, criminal name (if applicable), and of course any pertinent Evil acts you have perpetrated lately. Cheating on tax forms or ripping those little "Do Not Remove" tags off mattresses does not count, as almost everyone does those sorts of things.

All applicants welcome.

The New Diet

What with one thing (stress) or another (stress), I seem to have lost a teensy bit too much weight this past month. And how is that a problem, one might ask?

I appear to have lost a few of my, um, assets. It's quite shocking, really.

It seems that a crash diet is in order; the dinner party was a good start, but I really need to set an organized plan:

1. Finally get around to choosing a new gym & start lifting weights again.
2. Eat ice cream
3. Eat cheese
4. Eat bread
5. Eat more cheese
6. Eat more bread
7. Eat dessert more frequently
8. Eat more cheese, just for good measure
9. Learn to make even-numbered lists

Steps must be taken. Otherwise I will never get out of traffic tickets or succesfully haggle with elderly gentlemen when purchasing odd antiques.

Not only that, but I'm afraid people will start addressing me as "young man".

My Goodness! What Can't That Woman Do With Pesto?!

I hosted yet another wonderfully delicious dinner party tonight.

The food was was delicious in a high-butter-content, heart-attack-inducing way, and the conversation was also delicious-- due mainly to the high percentage of charming foreign accents. Music was vintage calypso and old Bollywood tunes from the fifties and sixties.

The menu:
L's Tropical Salad (mixed greens, cucumber, hearts of palm, sweet red grapefruit, etc.)
L's Lovely Lasagna (with fresh pesto!)
L's Kick-Ass Carrots
French bread with butter
Made-from-scratch orange zest bundt cake with fresh strawberries and blueberries
Red wine, white wine, sweet tea

People keep asking for the lasagna recipe, so here it is:

L's Lovely Lasagna
Ingredients (for about 8 servings)
Approximately 1 pound of fresh spinach
1 cup minced onion
5 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup fresh grated parmesan
the amount of fresh pesto made from the recipe below
2 pounds ricotta cheese (about 4 cups worth)
approximately 24 lasagna noodles (give or take a few)
1 and a half pounds of mozzarella cheese slices
salt and pepper, according to taste

Steps:
1. clean spinach and remove the stems.
2. use 3 tablespoons of the olive oil to saute the onions in a very large skillet (until soft)
3. add a bit of salt and pepper then remove from heat
4. stir raw spinach into hot onions and stir it around a bit
5. add 1/2 the grated parmesan, all the pesto, all the ricotta and mix thoroughly with some extra black pepper if you like
6. place a layer of cooked noodles in the bottom of oiled lasagna/cake pan
7. spread one-third of the spinach mixture on top of the noodle layer
8. place a layer of mozarella cheese on top of that
9. place another layer of noodles
10. spread another one-third of the spinach mixture on top of that
11. place another layer of mozarella cheese
12. place another layer of noodles
13. spread the remaining spinach mixture
14. place the remaining layer of mozarella cheese
15. place a last layer of noodles
16. sprinkle the remainder of the parmesan on top and drizzle with a bit of olive oil
17. cover with aluminum foil and bake at 350 for 40 minutes

The Pesto!
Ingredients:
at least 3 cups fresh basil leaves, tightly packed
5-6 large cloves of garlic (or more, depending on your mood)
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
1/4 cup pulverized pecans (or pine nuts)
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup melted butter
black pepper, to taste

steps:
1. just blend everything all together in the blender until it's a big green, soupy mess.


***note: you can prepare the lasagna the night before, if necessary.

Just Lounging Around At Home...

Today I helped a couple of friends make homemade beer, and I'm a little tired after all the excitement. So, I've slipped on something comfortable, and I'm just lounging around, refusing to do anything even remotely responsible.

My friend Bill periodically creates large batches of beer, most notably for his upcoming annual Oktoberfest party; Debbie and I offered to help because we are both interested in making our own homemade brew. For any interested parties, I have documented the process for posterity:

1. Make sure you have plenty of snacks and beer. You must keep up your strength.

2. Slosh bleach around on absolutely everything that doesn't move. A non-sterilized environment will produce skunk beer.

3. Spill a little water and malt here and there. This is considered good luck, especially if you have forgotten to purchase any barley.

4. Drink plenty of beer while stirring the malt and hops into the water. Don't forget to squish any ants that are attracted to the malt, as they are not generally considered good ingredients.

5. Take a little time out to watch an episode of Absolutely Fabulous.

6. Slosh bleach all over your glass carboy. Carefully rinse, repeat, then rinse again before smashing the container into a million tiny pieces. Some homebrewers recommend accidentally slicing your arm open as well, but this is not absolutely necessary.

7. Panic while trying to locate a number for the local beer and winemakers supply store. Speed through rain-slicked streets in order to purchase a new carboy.

8. After almost dropping and smashing new carboy, funnel water and the malt/hops mixture into it while speculating on the sex life of yeast.

9. Stick a cork in it.

10. Head over to the local bar.


After splitting a plate of lamb at the Garden, Bill and I slithered over to the Independant bar for beer that was produced with a little less excitement. I drank a tasty little something-or-other called Éphémère, which smells like sweet green apples. Don't bother asking me what Bill had, because I certainly can't remember.

****


Random Quotes From Today

"Did I ever tell you about the time my neighbor saw me wearing leather chaps with a bathing suit on Easter Sunday?"

"I can never remember people's names unless I want to have sex with them... I mean, why bother?"

"Check out that weird guy passed out in the grass!"
"Ha ha ha! Maybe he's dead."
"Yeah, and we'll read about it in tomorrow's paper: Man dies in park. Callous passersby point and laugh."

"Well, all men are jerks."
"You're a man"
"Oh, yeah..."

"This is my fashion standard: I just put on the outfit, stand in front of the mirror and ask myself 'would I have sex with that person?' If the answer is no, I don't wear it."

Greetings From The Seaside

Ah... A lovely day today: 98 degrees with 54% humidity! We are loving life here in sunny St. Petersburg!

I just hope we don't shrivel up and die.

After I spent the morning sweating quite fashionably downtown, the Frog Princess and her brother, Ian, picked me up for a little light book shopping at Wilson's. Luckily, I only brought $40, so I didn't misbehave too badly.
purchases:
1. Witches and Neighbors: The Social and Cultural Context of European Witchcraft (Robin Briggs)
2. The Moonstone (Wilkie Collins)
3. Maggie: A Girl of the Streets (Stephen Crane)
4. The Great Shark Hunt: Gonzo Papers, volume 1 (Hunter S. Thompson)
5. Speaker For the Dead (Orson Scott Card)

This means that I shall have to get busy, as I am still in the middle of reading Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds (Charles MacKay, LL.D.) and The Art of War (Sun Tzu)

*********

I've been meaning to get a membership at the local pool, but they are closed until the end of the month. So I walked on over to the local beach, where no one actually swims, for god's sake, due to possibly toxic chemicals floating in the water.

Of course, it is quite lovely, and I spent some time admiring the picturesque smokestacks gloriously belching smoke in the distance and the bright sheen of melting plastic as the sun glinted playfully on discarded bottles. No words can express the beauty of the scene, the sizzling asphalt, and the lovingly oiled cellulite squeezed into teensy-tiny hot pink thong bikinis.

Ah, yes... summertime in Florida.

Livin' Scared in the 'Hood

Well, there have been all sorts of trials and tribulations this evening-- not to mention an actual case of attempted murder.

Initially, the evening began quite smoothly; I took the Doctor out for a belated birthday dinner at a bizarre little restaurant called The Dish, which forces you to fetch your own ingredients for disgruntled chefs to toss on the grill. They didn't actually expect us to bus our own tables or fetch our own drinks, but I am now waiting for a restaurant that makes me cook, clean and tally up the bill myself. After all, I just don't get enough of that at home.

Because I didn't expire from food poisoning, I waddled home for a relaxing evening of database design work for The Incredibly Large Project From the Bowels of the Netherworld.

Luckily, my friend Cynthia interrupted this with an exciting phone call to inform me that she'd just been shot in the back! Well, nearly shot in the back. Sort of.

She lives with her family in a rather charming area of St. Petersburg, a neighborhood which one would never associate with drive-by-shootings or gangs, or even bad plumbing. However, as she walked by her living room window this evening, the driver of a passing SUV shot a high-powered bullet which grazed her back so closely that it left a red welt. Chaos, panic and disorder ensued as a frantic 911 call was placed-- with her husband saying "my wife's been shot! my wife's been shot!" and Cynthia saying "are you sure? are you sure?"

There were other shots taken elsewhere, so it was apparently a random act.

However, she and her family are now faced with a terrible problem. For one thing, they are completely unfamiliar with any local gang signs. For another, they apparently have never seen anything even remotely resembling a gang, who, based on local demographics, must be a roaming pack of rabid accountants.

She has absolutely no experience with hip phrases like "bust a cap in yo' ass", "that's ill" and "Why you hatin' on a boo?" I hope there must be some sort of "street-smart" remedial training somewhere, because she doesn't even have the faintest idea of how to act like a thug. I don't see how they're going to fit in the neighborhood now.


***
Fun Fact!
The term "Thug" originated as a word to indicate a member of a band of professional assassins who worshiped the Hindu goddess Kali and offered their victims to her.

Keeping All You Worker Bees In My Thoughts....

I had the day off today -- ha ha ha ha ha ha!


Things I did not do:
1. Clean my apartment
2. Clean my car
3. Balance my checkbook
4. Pick up my new art
5. Win the Lottery
6. Run for President
7. Fly to Switzerland
8. Get a tan
9. Get a grip
10. Get a life

Things I did do, as they were rather less tiring:
1. Slept in
2. Refused to shower and dress until noon
3. Visited the yummy Italian market nearby and bought fresh bread, cheese, smoked salmon, grapes and gelato. Ogled a handsome man at the coffee bar but did not smile, ask for the time or comment on the lovely food because We Have Permanently Given Up Men.
4. Slept some more
5. Started re-reading The Joke by Kundera. Decided it wasn't funny enough, so started re-reading a Wodehouse novel instead.

Not Dead, Just Sleeping

worked much of the weekend and pulled an all-nighter last night for a large project.

I'm trickling off to bed, and I plan to dream about foie gras, berries, and joining the circus.

good night.