Funnel Web Spider
I mean funnel cake!. I always make that mistake. Uh oh, if that’s the cake, where’s the spider?
Bloomin’ Onion Machine
Spike knew, and now so do you. The secret is the cold water bath, and this midieval torture device repurposed to manufacturing deliciousness.
Tentative Fringe showings
Tentative:
Sunday, Aug 7th -
10:00 PM: Adventures in Mating
11:30 PM: The Scrimshaw Show
Shows that you will probably be avoiding so as to not make uncomfortable eye contact with me before looking away and going to the bathroom to hide:
Aug 8 - 5:30 PM: “Cliff Notes” for Dummies by Third Rabbit Dance Ensemble
Aug 14 - 7:00 PM: Man Saved by Condiments by Pehl Productions & Starting Gate Prod.
My Hands Smell Like Basil
Lisa always seems to forget that we have a few herbs in the back garden. As I was supplementing her sauce-from-a-jar I said that I am jealous of Paul’s Mom’s vegetable garden with tomatoes and a forest of pepper plants (don’t tell them who ate all the spicy sweet pickle slices, holy fucking delicious). Anyway, Lisa said that next year I could probably dig up more of the yard to claim my own space, and I casually mentioned that I might not be here next year.
I’m a little sad that I didn’t join Paul’s Party Pad as the eigth and oldest Power Ranger, heretofore to be referred to as the Den Mother, or just Mom, but I’m not sure that spending six months or a year living with 22 year olds would really improve my social standing. Nonetheless, it was an opportunity to revel in adolescence.
It was only three or four years ago that I had thought to myself that I would be looking at houses “in a few months.” Then, life went tits up.
I must be slipping, I only took 120 pictures at the art thing.
Time to ROCK!
Apparently, Cake Woman got too much sun at the Uptown Art Fair thing yesterday and spent the night throwing up. I plan to stay hydrated. I might also see about seeing a Fringe Festival show tonight. Apparently the woman who tells the yoni story is in one, and how could I miss that? Otherwise, later this week.
I will be calling Gerg to see if he remembers expressing some interest in the fair, otherwise I will be wandering the streets of Uptown by my lonesome.
Blow up my celly if you wants to hookZ up, yo.
Paul is AWESOME
But you know that already. Pictures later. Where is his camera phone?
I’m Losing My Edge
It’s only nine days until I turn 30. At that point I will be forced to do my closest impression of an adult. I could start wearing a tie again. I’ve been trying to write something about growing old all afternoon, but this is all that I could get down.
The only part of hangovers that I actually dislike is when my heart pounds and pounds.
Time to get my shit together and head off to Saint Cloud. I’m going to get revenge on my liver for some crimes that I will make up on the way. I don’t need justification.
Palmcorder Yajna
Fucking sweet, amazon.com has this song available for download.
I don’t know if the lyrics mean anything at all but the song makes me feel good and sad and happy and all mixed up inside.
Hey, wait, you can also download it straight from the goats themselves, over here: http://www.weshallallbehealed.com/song.html.
Oh, and lyrics here: http://www.themountaingoats.net/lyrics/wsabh_lyr.html#yajna.