Wednesday, March 27, 2013
PRETTY FLY FOR A WHITE GUY.
Unlike 2 of my good friends, who both fairly recently took R Kelly's famous words "I believe I can fly" far too literally, I am really going to fly! That is, of course, because I am now a real boy and everything. With the pretty obvious exception of any and all references to wood when you know what happens...
Speaking of excitement...
I have just booked my flight to The Big Shitty. I am going up for a wedding. And not just any old set of tarnished nuptials. Oh no! No, we're talking real life motherfucking celebrity Heat Magazine shit here folks! You all recall The Meyer Of Awesomeville? Well, after all the umming and aahing, a date has been set on which he not only makes an honest woman out of his (far) better half, but also bestows upon her even more awesomeness. I often argue that it isn't possible to fit more, but let's just say this promises to be one glorious and special day! See? Excited!
This also means I get a brief visit with Real Life Smiley Face and DrHellCuz. Not to mention the off chance of an encounter with THE Neal Goldwyer, scribe of scribes and poet extraordinaire.
But I also get to sit in a real life aircraft. I haven't flown in a few years and I'm tremendously excited about it. I'm going to make myself a mix tape for the trip. It'll start with 'Jet Set' by Alphaville and go downhill fast from there. Probably avoid Roxette's 'Crash Boom Bang' though.
Anyway, what can I tell you? Nothing much changes in my life. Work is what it is. Renovations continue as fast as I can move junk from one inconvenient spot in one room to another. The Hot Girlfriend is making dinner tonight - can't wait! There will be all sorts of wailing, squawking and bashing from the studio as well this evening. And that's just me molesting my poor guitar. The other guys will be in attendance as well, doing their level best to cover up my aural abuse. What sweet music they make, eh?
Wow! This week couldn't drag arse any slower if it was Ru Paul in a music video. I love this time of year. An entire month with not one full work week... Kind of makes the rest of the year a bit kak, though.
Anyway, on that rather forced note, I bid you farewell until tomorrow. Have a wonderful evening, one and all.
Except I have a very important announcement. My car is fixed. No, not like your cat. I pulled up at home yesterday with a busted carburetor, consulted my wunder-mechanic immediately, left my car with him, and it's already sorted! Whaaahooo! But that's not the reason for this paragraph. This paragraph is here to illustrate how fucking awesome it is to have people on whom you can rely. Thank you Sister Sibling for the use of Basil today. And thank you Rose Thorn for the chauffeur service at such short notice. You are both wonderful and beautiful people! And the entire exercise facilitated me being able to see the Brother In Awe hoist a mattress base up to his fifth floor balcony with a piece of string. Goodnight. I'm out!
NGDG: All French authors must grapple with the twin heritage of Rousseau and de Sade. Since modern life has killed the former, the arena of the fuckup permeates contemporary French letters. And it's marvellous.
Spread The Love. I'm Buying A Blue Plastic Towbar Scrotum.